


Between Now and Eternity

by TomFooleryPrime



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Being Lost, Companions, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Idiots in Love, Pon Farr, Pre-Canon, Romance, Stranded, Strangers to Lovers, Survival, Time Shenanigans, Tropes, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 124,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomFooleryPrime/pseuds/TomFooleryPrime
Summary: When her mother signed her up for an interstellar singles cruise, Amanda had no idea she would end up stranded on an isolated planet with only an aloof Vulcan ambassador for company. As the weeks turn into months, the reluctant and unlikely pair find themselves forced to survive any way they can. A Sarek/Amanda origins story. NOW COMPLETE.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, my third Sarek and Amanda origins story. I'm so sorry.

**2183.81  
** **Vulcan's Forge**

He laid flat on his back, the lids of his eyes half closed to Vulcan's punishing sun. He had fallen asleep in the shade on the low side of the gorge, but now that the bright orb was fading into the horizon, it was better positioned to burn his already leathery skin. He licked his lips, which were as cracked and dry as the sandy soil upon which he slept. It would be at least another hour before sunset, but he could no longer deny his growing need for water.

Sarek rolled onto his side and upon catching sight of the bowl resting underneath the small rock ledge, fought an immediate instinct to react. One slow breath, then a second one. The coiled figure beneath the stone didn't move, but it was unmistakable.

It was a juvenile k'karee, quite small but quite venomous, wound tightly around his clay bowl. Sarek rose slowly to his feet. The small frown that formed on his face pulled on his parched lips. His head throbbed and his back ached and it took enormous effort to quell his frustration.

It had taken twelve days to shape and dry the small clay dish. There had been many previous failures that had been too brittle or had split when he attempted to cook with them, but he'd had this one for seventeen days now. It was a source of life. It held water, and now it was guarded by a watchful k'karee.

Sarek analyzed his options, which was quite easy, because there were so few. He could attempt to retrieve the bowl or he could surrender it. Repossessing his bowl had the real potential to result in either his death or the k'karee's, whomever was quickest, unless he chose to strike the snakelike animal at a distance with a projectile.

He needed logic, but the sight of the scaled coils of deadly animal around his water source touched a very primal nerve that he found difficult to control. It had always been difficult for Sarek to control his more instinctive emotions, such as fear and surprise. Logic would suggest that the driving purpose of any individual should be a long and prosperous life, and the risk associated with driving this animal away was great. The risk of killing it was far lesser, but the unnecessary taking of life was to be avoided.

He weighed his immediate need for water against the value of the k'karee's life for nearly ten minutes, and just as the sun sunk beneath the nearby mountains, Sarek turned on his heel and began walking toward the flat of the desert in search of a water-giving ka-ran-zhi root. The k'karee could not remain wrapped around his bowl indefinitely, just as Sarek would not remain in Vulcan's Forge indefinitely.

Tomorrow would begin his seventy-third day of the Rite of Tal'oth. Very few Vulcans underwent the extreme adulthood trial in the modern age, as most Vulcans elected to complete their training with the kahs-wan ritual in adolescence, but the tradition had endured within Sarek's family, and so here he was, wandering a hostile and untamed territory with nothing but his clothes and a ritual blade. He was due to return on the day he reached the age of majority, but that was still thirty-nine days away. He needed to survive now, and to survive, he needed water.

A Vulcan could survive without water for an extended period of time. Under ideal conditions he could last as long as fifteen days, but Vulcan's Forge was far removed from ideal. The intense heat and dry air rapidly tapped bodily stores, requiring the consumption of nearly a quarter of a liter of water per day. Much of his waking life was now devoted to searching for this most necessary resource.

His steps were sluggish and his breath was dry, but the only vegetation in sight was the scrubby underbrush that skirted the large boulders. A sehlat screamed in the distance. Sarek froze, training his ears to the sound. Fire would repel wild animals, but the time and energy required to build a fire in his condition would be ruinous. It was a precarious thing, to reject safety for sustenance.

Sarek veered to the left to change course and head into the wind to disguise his scent from the sehlat. He was exhausted and near delirious with thirst, but water eluded him. The sehlat howled again, closer now. Sarek removed the blade from his waistband and continued walking. It would have been better to use the blade to fashion a spear from a length of wood, but no ideal wood was available. Nothing about his current predicament was ideal.

The Tal'oth had fallen out of favor with modern Vulcans due to the poor survival rates. Four months in the harsh and barren Forge was simply too long: even many of the most resourceful, ingenious, and intrepid individuals were bound to fall victim to unfortunate circumstances, and now Sarek suspected he was no exception.

He continued walking and continued searching for a ka-ran-zhi plant or a natural spring from the thick rock of the mountains, but both were rare in this region of the Forge and he was growing weaker. The sehlat would be upon him soon, and he mentally prepared himself for a fight he was not likely to win. Even if he did, any blood loss from serious wounds would only constitute further fluid volume loss, and he was already teetering on the edge of death from dehydration.

On his next step forward, his left knee buckled and crashed hard into a sharp stone. Blood and pain erupted from the site of impact and he sensed death would be upon him soon. He ruminated on the nature of life and death, steeling his mind against the eons of instinct coded into his being that sought to prevent the termination of life.

A shuffling of rocks several meters behind him heralded the sehlat's arrival. His head buzzed and a ringing began in his ears. Sarek opened his eyes and rose to his feet, glancing up at the stars and feeling prepared to die. He gripped the knife hard and turned, but no amount of logic could prevent the sudden shock of what he found. The knife slipped from his hand and clattered against the stone with a series of three _tinks_.

"I-Chaya?"

Sarek staggered forward, oblivious to the pain shooting through his left knee, and fell forward into the young sehlat's glossy fur. He had been nine years old when he'd found the abandoned sehlat pup cowering under the khara bush at the edge of his family's estate. They had grown up together, but early last year, I-Chaya had disappeared when Sarek had gone on a diplomatic visit to Earth with his father. Now here he was, hundreds of kilometers away from home.

The sehlat and Vulcan sat with each other for a time. The purpose of the Rite of Tal'oth was to learn self-reliance and resilience, and I-Chaya's presence violated that. But he could not find the strength to send him away. The Forge was a lonely as it was inhospitable.

When I-Chaya sat up and backed away from Sarek's embrace, he resisted the urge to grip his fur and force him to stay. He took several steps up the mountain, turned, and looked at Sarek.

"Go," Sarek said. "And thank you, old friend."

It was illogical to speak to a being who could not understand, but there were times it seemed likely that his boyhood pet _did_ understand. Even so, he refused Sarek's order and glanced upwards along the slope of the mountain.

"We must part ways."

I-Chaya sat down and uttered a soft growl. Sarek approached him, waving his arms but too fatigued to really shoo the animal away. I-Chaya stood and took several more steps up the mountain, glancing back at Sarek, which suddenly gave him the sense that I-Chaya intended that he should follow.

The mountain was too much for him to manage; the rise was too steep, his body, too weak. Sarek finally caught up to his sehlat companion and collapsed onto his knees, but I-Chaya shoved his large head under Sarek's armpit and nuzzled upward.

Sarek's head rolled on his shoulders, too heavy to be adequately controlled by his neck muscles any longer, but his eyes were still in perfect working order, and he caught sight of a silvery glint poking through the underbrush. I-Chaya had led him to a large thicket of ka-ran-zhi.

He frantically crawled toward the patch of plants, ripping the first one he reached from the dusty soil with renewed strength. Chalky water flowed from the roots and Sarek hungrily bit into one. It was bitter and the wetness stung his chapped lips, but it did not matter. _Life_ flowed from the tips of the ka-ran-zhi roots.

I-Chaya sat down and watched him suck plant after plant of its moisture. There were enough ka-ran-zhi plants to provide water for approximately four days and the location was well suited for shelter. He could rest here and recover his strength.

He half-crawled, half-walked several more meters up the slope and sat down on a smooth stone underneath a large outcropping of boulders. I-Chaya curled up beside him and rested his enormous head in Sarek's lap. The Tal'oth was supposed to teach him self-sufficiency but without the assistance of his boyhood pet, he likely would have died. He supposed there was a lesson in that also.

I-Chaya began to snore loudly. Despite seventeen years of training in logic, he could do nothing to prevent the tiny smile that formed on his lips.

* * *

**2212.81  
Yellowstone Ecological Preserve**

Her fingers were chapped and raw. She gritted her teeth and kept going, faster and faster until smoke started to stream from under the blanket of tinder and kindling. She _almost_ had it. Her grimace threatened to turn into a grin, that was until the twig snapped in her hand, causing her to utter a string of words that garnered a disapproving glare from her father.

"I'm so cold," Amanda moaned. She fell backward onto her backside and shot him an apologetic but resolute expression as she put her gloves back on. "Can't we just use the fire starter?"

"This isn't about staying warm," her father reminded her, his icy breath billowing around his face. "Well, not _just_ about staying warm."

It was about as much injustice as an almost nine-year-old could endure. "I hate this!"

"You were the one who wanted to come."

"I didn't know it was going to snow!"

"Well, let that be a lesson to you. Check the weather before you go camping."

Amanda gave her father another dirty look. "I want to go home."

"It's a seven-hour hike to the car. It'll be dark in about thirty minutes. You think it's cold now, just wait."

"Can't you just call the emergency forest service?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to start the fire?"

"It _would_ be easier, if you gave me the fire starter."

"Life isn't always easy, Amanda."

She couldn't hate her father, not _really_ , anyway, but why did he have to be so mean? Camping was supposed to be fun. "I'll tell mom."

Her words cut a sad frown into his face, much to Amanda's instant regret. She started to mumble an apology, but her father shook his head and said, "You can tell her if you like, but first, you have to survive the night and if you want to do that, I suggest you start a fire."

Amanda flexed her fingers in an attempt to restore some of the blood flow and slowly worked her way to her feet. "But I broke the bow. The snow is making the wood too wet. I'll have to start all over."

"Then you'll have to start all over. So what?"

She wiped her runny nose with the back of her glove and surveyed the frozen ground, which was already coated in a plush layer of white powder. She kicked the snow aside, found another suitable stick, and started working the nylon bootlace out of the broken halves of her earlier attempt at a bow drill.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

Amanda rolled her eyes and sniffed. Rather than respond to her attitude, he gave her a wide smile and asked, "Why don't you try using a bigger stick for your spindle?"

Amanda sighed—she had to let him know how annoyed she was, after all—and rooted around for a thicker branch. When she found one several minutes later, she brought it to him for inspection.

"Pine is no good. It's too flimsy. You want something with medium hardness. Around here, your best bet is cottonwood or willow."

She bit her lip and renewed her quest for a new spindle for her bow drill. What a _stupid_ method for starting a fire anyway. It was a technique for cavemen, which seemed a little pointless, especially since humanity had long ago made friends with aliens from other planets. She kept her thoughts to herself and eventually found a cottonwood branch, which she snapped in half. Not too green and not rotted away. It seemed close to perfect, really.

"That'll probably do," her father called from behind her.

She nodded and pulled out her pocketknife to whittle the ends of her new spindle to fit into the handhold and the footboard, but she couldn't manage it with her gloves on, so once again, she was forced to take them off to work. It was slow going, forming the hole for the handhold, and by the time she greased the joint, it was very nearly dark.

Surely he would have to give in and use the fire starter now? He had made his point and she had gone through the motions of trying to start a fire with a bow drill. So what if she hadn't been successful? She had _tried_ , hadn't she? He wouldn't let them freeze to death, would he? The howl of wolves higher up on the mountain turned Amanda's blood cold and suddenly, freezing to death didn't seem like the worst thing that could happen.

"Fire also keeps away animals," he reminded her.

"The footboard is wet from the snow and so is the kindling," she whined. "Even if I get this spindle going, wood burns best when it's dry."

"True." He shrugged his pack off his right shoulder and rifled around until he found a plastic bag, which he tossed to her. "But I thought I might help you out, just this once."

"Thanks," she muttered. She opened the bag to find a bundle of dried grasses that he'd probably picked up on their hike through the sagebrush earlier that morning.

She shoveled the thin dusting of snow away from the soil and resumed the arduous process of bow drilling. When it was too dark to see, her father offered her a flashlight. She would have preferred the fire starter, but she gritted her chattering teeth and kept going. It took forty-five minutes but eventually, a glowing ember fell from the footboard into the kindling and Amanda fell back, almost intoxicated with glee and disbelief.

"Don't let it go out!" her father barked.

She pitched forward, blew gently, and suddenly, a flame took root and licked up toward her lips as if conjured by magic. " _Ha_!"

"It's a good start, but let's get a real fire going," he urged, pulling his rain poncho from the nest of logs they'd stacked into a neat campfire formation earlier in the afternoon.

Amanda scooped up the bundle of fast-burning grasses and set them at the base of the logs. They continued to feed it kindling for the better part of half an hour before her father finally pronounced that they had a reliable campfire. She'd been proud before but this was a different feeling. There was awe and humility and joy and relief and so many other things wrapped into the dancing flames before her.

"You hungry?"

"Huh?" She snapped out of her trance to see her father was offering her a heater meal. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, go ahead. You earned it."

She took the slim bag, noting it was the beef stew meal. "Thanks, dad."

He took a seat on the collapsible camping stool next to her and dug in to his own bag of beef stew. "So, you still going to tell your mom?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Amanda took a cautious bite and leaned in closer to the fire. "If I told her, she'd never let me go anywhere with you again."

"That's probably true."

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the cackling sounds of the fire and the call of the wilderness as it came alive on a cold, autumn night. Amanda finished her meal, licked the spoon clean, and tossed the biodegradable packaging into the fire.

"Aren't you glad we set the tent up first?" she asked, tucking the spoon into her coat pocket.

Her father shrugged. "I can pitch a tent in the dark. It would have been better to have the fire going while there was still daylight."

Amanda frowned. He was probably right. "Why didn't you say that then before you let me start setting up camp?"

"I wanted to let you work it out for yourself."

"Wouldn't it have saved a lot of trouble if you'd just told me?"

"It might have saved trouble for us both _tonight_ , but not in the long run."

"What do you mean?"

"I could tell you how to do everything and maybe you would remember some of what I told you, but learning it for yourself has a funny way of making you remember things better. It seems to me like you learned a lot of things tonight."

Amanda snorted an indignant laugh. "I guess so. I'm never even leaving the house again without checking the weather."

He chuckled. "Well, there you go."

"I know one thing's for sure—for winter break, I want to go somewhere warmer. Maybe we could finally go to the Everglades."

"I'm pretty sure your mom is going to want to take you to your grandmother's for winter break."

"Can't you talk to her? I want to go with you."

"An hour ago you said you hated camping."

Amanda sighed. "It's not really so bad. _Please_ will you talk to her?"

"She barely agreed to let you come with me this weekend. Which reminds me, I should call when we get back to the forest station."

Amanda sighed. When she had been littler, she'd had a hard time understanding why her parents had gotten divorced, but now that she'd grown older and had learned more about her parents' personalities, she couldn't really understand why they'd gotten married in the first place. They were two completely different people, bridged together forever by Amanda, who in turn was forced to live two different existences—a life with her mother, full of manicures and luncheons and pretty dresses, and a life with her father, complete with camping trips and late nights in front of the holoscreen watching reruns of old science fiction programs and eating ice cream out of the container.

"I love you, dad," Amanda whispered, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"I love you too, Amanda," he replied. "But you won't be a little girl forever. We're out here to teach you what to do when I can't be there for you."

Amanda laughed. "You really think I'd go camping without you?"

Her father laughed too and shrugged. "You never know."


	2. The Incident in the Argelian Sector

**2229.03  
Argelian Sector, FCS ** **_Juniper_ ** **_Carnegie_ **

"Is that a book?"

Amanda glanced up from her volume of _Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said_ and discovered a blond man with chubby red cheeks wagging his brows at her. They were so thick and bushy they gave him the appearance that he was a caricature of someone else rather than a real person standing right in front of her.

"You know it is," Amanda replied, rolling her eyes and raising it slightly to indicate she wasn't interested in conversation.

He didn't take the hint. He pulled out the chair opposite her and parked himself with an unceremonious _thump_. He leaned down to examine the front of her book and asked, "Who is Philip K. Dick?"

"The author of this book."

"What sort of things does he write about?"

"The future."

"Sounds interesting. Bet you are too."

"I am, but it doesn't mean I'm interested in you." Her eyes flicked upward and she forced a fake smile.

He shot her a dark look, slid the chair out from underneath himself with a piercing screech, and muttered, "Hope you enjoy your book."

"Have a good afternoon," she replied brightly, though she wasn't sure it was afternoon anymore. The room was filling up, so it was probably close to cocktail hour.

She turned her attention back to the book, feeling like the only man she wanted in her life at that very moment was the novel's protagonist, the ill-used Jason Taverner. She kept one eye on the page and the other on the open room, and upon spying a swarthy man at the bar heading in her direction, swung her leg onto the seat of the opposite chair and pulled it closer toward herself. The man changed course. She was safe.

She would have preferred to remain in her quarters, but the neighbors to her left were fighting and the neighbors to her right had a habit of engaging in frequent bouts of noisy lovemaking. Every day of the last week aboard the _Juniper Carnegie_ had been like the hell of Valentine's Day on repeat. She didn't know what she'd expected: it _was_ a singles cruise.

The cruise was a gift from her mother, given to Amanda for her twenty-fifth birthday. She was twenty-six now and still not looking to enter into a serious relationship, but here she was all the same. She'd never really planned on taking this cruise at all—being stuck on a space boat with a bunch of lonely and horny people wasn't really her concept of fun and she was secretly terrified of space—but she had been in desperate need of a vacation and it _was_ already paid for and the school was on month-long break for the winter.

In hindsight, Amanda wished she'd stayed home where she could keep her two feet on the ground, the _real_ ground. She could have gone to the beach. She could have gone camping. It had been _years_ since she'd gone camping. But camping had always been something she did with her dad and he stayed so busy with work and his new family.

Her eyes scanned the page and she realized she'd been reading the same sentence over and over without really taking it in. The din in the room was reaching an annoying pitch and she saw suitor number three stalking toward her table. She kicked her other leg up into the chair across from her and narrowed her eyes, but still he came.

"Um, do you need this chair?" he asked, pointing to the chair with his thumb while looking over his shoulder at a large party.

"Oh," she blushed, sitting up straight. "No, not really. In fact, you can have this one too. I was just leaving."

"Sure, thanks. Say, is that a _book_?" he asked, cocking a playful eyebrow.

"You're a sharp one."

"I didn't know people still read things printed on paper. I don't even think my grandma did."

She turned on her heel without further comment and headed out of the lounge. There were gentlemen's eyes on her but she didn't take it personally.

Once in the hallway, she found herself adrift. She doubted whether the adventurous woman in the cabin adjacent to hers was done with that day's lover and most public spaces on the ship were probably full up with people ready to mingle. She briefly considered changing into some nicer clothes and joining the desperate mob, but she wanted to finish her book and tomorrow they would arrive on Argelius II and she would have plenty of time to be social then.

She wandered down the corridor. She passed the gym and finding it empty, parked herself on a padded bench and got through half a chapter before a pair of couples entered in skimpy athletic attire and made a disgusting show of lifting the grav weights.

She tried the café next, then the pool on the lower decks, but a coffee aficionado group and a lively game of water volleyball conspired to thwart her reading plans. She found a room in a dusty corner of the seventh deck labelled as a janitorial closet and certainly wouldn't have minded curling up in the company of cleaning bots and droids, but it was regrettably locked.

"Can I help you find something?" The question belonged to a bright-faced young woman wearing the drab jumpsuit of the ship's crew.

"I was just looking for a quiet place to read."

"Not a lot of quiet places at this hour," the woman smiled. "Aside from maybe your cabin."

" _Doubtful_ ," Amanda muttered, thinking of her awful neighbors. "But thanks anyway."

She strolled along different decks until her rumbling stomach convinced her to stop by one of the restaurants on Deck 9. She really didn't see the point in having different restaurants at all because while they all had different menus and different themes, all the food served in them came out of the same replicators in the central kitchen. She chose the option with the fewest number of patrons, the little Greek place wedged between a rowdy Mexican restaurant and the dressier Italian restaurant. Unfortunately, it was still a pretty packed house and the attendant at the door seemed utterly confused when she requested a table for one in a more secluded spot.

"So, you're… _by_ _yourself_?"

Why was that so hard to believe? Amanda furrowed her brow and impatiently waved her arms in a small circle, gesturing to the crowd of exactly zero people she'd showed up with, but managed to keep the sarcastic reply sequestered to the tip of her tongue. It was easy to be rude to creepy guys trying to hit on her in the lounge, but it wasn't really in her nature to be mean to service staff. Still, it was a pretty ridiculous question. "Yep, just me."

"We don't really have tables for just one person," the hostess replied. "You could sit at the bar with no wait."

Amanda forced herself to smile. "I guess that'll have to do."

She managed to find a seat in the corner and counted her lucky stars that the bartender was clearly a no-nonsense type who didn't relish in extended heart-to-hearts with his customers. She ordered some kind of fruity alien cocktail and asked for a menu, and just as she was about to flag down the bartender from the other side of the bar to request an order of the stuffed mushrooms, someone asked, "Anyone sitting here?"

The voice was baritone and British and belonged to a tall, stocky man with an honest face and kind eyes. A gentle giant, if she ever saw one. Her initial instinct was to lie and claim the seat belonged to some made up partner who would return from the restroom at any moment, but she supposed if she didn't surrender the seat to this one, someone else would ask for it eventually and besides, he looked normal enough. There was no telling what the next claimant would be like.

"Um, yeah, it's uh- it's open."

"Nice, thanks."

Amanda nodded and turned her focus back to the bartender.

"Can I borrow the menu from you?" her new companion asked.

"Sure." Amanda turned the restaurant's PADD off and slid it across the bar with her two forefingers.

His mouth fell open and he pointed to her book. "Is that-"

"A book, yes," she finished.

"Well, _obviously_ ," he laughed. "I was actually going to ask if that was _Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said_ , but I can see now that it is. I love that one. I liked _The Zap Gun_ better though."

"You like old timey science fiction?"

"Who doesn't?" he retorted, feigning a look of shock. "Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein."

Amanda's jaw dropped. "Not many people have heard of them."

"Not many people are interesting enough to appreciate the finer things in life," he shrugged. He held out his right hand and said, "Simon. Simon Brandon."

"Simon Brandon? Two first names?"

He rolled his eyes in a look of mock contempt. "Let's see you do better."

She returned his handshake and replied, "Amanda Grayson."

"So, Amanda Grayson, what brings you to this voyage of the damned?"

She didn't even bother trying to hide her laugh. "My mother thought it was time I found a serious boyfriend and decided this was the best birthday present a single twenty-something could ask for."

He made a pained face. "Ah, mum wants grandchildren before she dies. Brutal."

"What about you?" she sighed.

"Ah, well, my fiancé dumped me four days before our wedding and ran off with my best mate. Two years later and I realized I never redeemed my honeymoon tickets and they were about to expire, so I exchanged them for a less couples oriented cruise and here I am."

"I'm not really sure how to respond to that."

"Yeah, it's a tough act to follow. So uh, what do you do when you're not dodging your mum's awkward questions and reading outdated science fiction?"

"Uh well, I'm from New Chicago. I'm a science teacher. Sixth grade."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. I'm on winter break right now, but I almost can't wait to go back. What about you?"

"I'm a logistics manager at a private firm."

"And you? Do you like your job?"

"No, I hate it, actually."

"You're really good at awkward segues," Amanda moaned, taking a long draft of her berry-flavored cocktail.

"We all have our special talents," he laughed, skimming the menu. "So that's what you _do_ , but what do you do for fun?"

"Oh, you know, the usual things. I'm a bit of a homebody, really. But I guess I like gardening and reading and knitting." Simon didn't seem to be listening, so she casually added, "And you know, illegal, underground, bareknuckle boxing matches."

His head whipped up from the menu. "Yeah?"

"Of course not, but it was my turn to make an awkward segue." She shot him a teasing smile.

All in all, they had fairly nice dinner conversation that lasted an hour, but around 1930 hours, they went their separate ways. Simon had asked for her contact information and though she wasn't really sure why, she'd politely refused. Thankfully, he hadn't really pressed her.

Simon Brandon, the large, non-threatening, neither handsome nor hideous, jilted logistics manager from Bristol, proud owner of two Yorkshire terriers, a dry sense of humor, and a deep passion for science fiction would have made a nice enough and reasonably compatible boyfriend, but she just couldn't bring herself to go through with it. Amanda liked him and her mom probably would have _loved_ him, but she just couldn't see herself settling down with _anyone_. While it was true that giving him her contact info wasn't exactly the same thing as entering into a marriage contract, she didn't feel interested in stringing him along. Why go out with him if she didn't want to get serious?

For that matter, why did so many people treat being single like it was some kind of disease? A few random, casual dates every now and again could be fun when both parties agreed to keep things short-lived, but she'd never felt the need for anything more serious. If she were going to be perfectly honest with herself, she rather liked the idea of living alone, answering to nothing and no one. Every mess in her tiny apartment was hers and hers alone, so why rock the boat and bring in someone who would leave dirty socks in the bathroom or wake her up when he came home late or drink the last of the orange juice?

Most of her married friends would say she just hadn't found "the one," but the idea of anything remotely resembling soulmates was more than a little ridiculous, especially considering the number of friends who started relationships swearing their new love was written in the stars, only to ask Amanda to help to pick of the pieces of their broken hearts years, months, or sometimes even weeks later.

She trickled back to her room, but no sooner was she through the door than there was a purposeful _thwack_ on the wall, followed by a woman screaming, "Oh yes! _Yes_! Just like that! Don't stop!" Amanda's face contorted into a reflexive grimace, but supposing her neighbor was just about done, she flopped down on her bed, stared at the ceiling, and waited for the cries of ecstasy to stop.

What the _hell_ had she been thinking, coming on a singles cruise?

* * *

**2229.03  
Argelian Sector, USS ** **_Bell_ **

"You ready, ambassador?" The voice behind him was young and eager.

Sarek craned his neck to see the ship's assistant engineering officer approaching his position along the wide portal window.

"What should I be ready for?" Sarek replied. "I was invited here merely to witness the test of this prototype. I serve no official function, nor have I any official duties that relate to the execution of this demonstration."

" _Right_ ," Lieutenant Schneider replied, his childlike complexion reddening. "I only meant, it's _exciting_ , isn't it? First new warp drive in twenty years and we get to be here to see it off on its maiden voyage."

"This is the first novel warp engine design to be tested in twenty-two years," he corrected, shifting his eyes from the officer back toward the portal. "And it would be illogical to classify a preliminary test as a voyage."

Lieutenant Schneider continued rambling about the specifications of the Peregrine X7, and though Sarek listened politely, he was more interested in studying the planet below. While it was not the specific reason he was present on the observation deck of the USS _Bell_ today, it was the reason he was in this sector in the first place.

The _Bell_ was in orbit of a small, isolated, uninhabited M Class planet in the Argelian Sector known as Arg-117P, the possession of which was hotly contested. The nearest inhabited planet was Argelius II, which was not a Federation member, but according to interstellar star charts, the Arg-117P fell just inside Federation space. Though not bound by Federation laws, the Argelians did have a trade agreement with the Federation, as well as several treaties with the Federation granting Starfleet vessels access to its ports in exchange for routine patrols of their space. Argelius II was situated perilously close to the Romulan Neutral Zone, and Starfleet's presence offered many social and economic benefits.

Argelius II was a popular tourist destination, both for Starfleet crews on shore leave and Federation civilians. The Argelians desired to expand their vacation industry to Arg-117P and had plans to develop the planet's three small continents into locales that could rival Risa, but the Federation had already earmarked the planet for the site of a future starbase and port and eventually, a planetside colony.

Argelius II and the Federation had been in informal negotiations for nearly four years to resolve their dispute over Arg-117P, with many compromises and counteroffers proposed, but because both sides were eager to maintain an amicable association yet neither side was willing to budge on its claim to the planet, the Federation had finally decided to send a formal arbiter to meet with the Argelian government. They had sent Sarek.

He had traveled to the Argelian Sector aboard the USS _Bell_ , a _Horizon_ -class Starfleet research vessel whose mission was to field test new propulsion upgrades and equipment. He was not due on Argelius II for five more days, and so in the interim, he was relegated to the status of diplomatic guest aboard the _Bell_.

The _Bell_ was a vessel staffed almost exclusively by human engineers and scientists. Sarek had quickly become an object of fascination for many of the crew once they discovered he had been an astrophysicist educated at the Vulcan Science Academy prior to his current posting as Vulcan ambassador to Earth.

In truth, the fascination was mutual. Sarek admired their mission and had enjoyed the tour of the ship Captain Niang had granted him, though he kept his overt keenness to an appropriate minimum. Following his graduation from the Vulcan Science Academy, he had been accepted to the Vulcan Expeditionary Group, but had declined the offer and take up the family mantle of diplomacy in the wake of his forefather's death. Still, he maintained a great enthusiasm for science, though perhaps not as great as Lieutenant Schneider, his current chatty companion who wore his love for the field of warp theory on his face at nearly all times.

"What are your thoughts, Ambassador Sarek, on standardizing the warp factors?"

Sarek blinked several times and uttered a barely audible sigh. "All standardization is likely to result in improved understanding, recordkeeping, and efficiency."

"Right, but what option are you in favor of?"

"My opinion on the subject is largely irrelevant, as I am not a voting member of the Federation Council of Applied Sciences, yet I believe the adoption of a cubic geometric progression is most logical, as it coincides with the majority of Federation systems."

"But do you think they'll ever get around to actually standardizing it though?"

He experienced a small flicker of annoyance that caught him off-guard. He quickly suppressed the distasteful emotion and replied, "It is illogical to speculate. It has been the subject of continued debate since prior to the founding of the Federation."

"The captain says if the Peregrine flies like she's supposed to, FCAS will have to do something about how we categorize warp factors from here on out. I mean, it would be kind of confusing for Starfleet to say we can travel at a max of warp 9 when the Tellarites and Ithenites call the exact same speed warp 27."

Sarek failed to see how the successful deployment of this new warp drive would accelerate the Federation Council of Applied Sciences'—or _F-CAS_ , as Lieutenant Schneider had so lazily abbreviated—decision to standardize the warp factors when no previous improvement to warp travel had caused them to do so, but he also failed to see the point in debating it. Were the Peregrine X7 warp drive to function as intended, it would allow vessels to travel 729 times faster the speed of light, which was 2.13 times faster than the fastest Federation ships. Using the logarithmic scale that the Vulcans and most other Federation members preferred, that equated to a speed of warp factor 9.

Sarek was not an engineer but he was well acquainted with the mechanics of spaceflight and held an advanced degree in applied astrophysics. He understood the designers of the Peregrine X7 had made drastic alterations to the field impellers and warp coils of modern warp drive designs, which in theory would allow for the more rapid and accurate folding of space and thus, faster travel. Computer simulations showed a small but still significant possibility for damage to the fabric of space time, which was why the Federation Science Council had elected to test the Peregrine X7 at the edges of Federation space and at a safe distance away from any inhabited planets.

"So what do you think about-"

"Lieutenant Schneider, I believe Commander Xia would appreciate your presence down in engineering." The pleasant, feminine voice interrupting Lieutenant Schneider was most welcome, and while Sarek could not speak for what Commander Xia would prefer, he would also be glad of Schneider's presence in engineering, rather than on the observation deck asking incessant and impertinent questions.

"Aye, captain." The young man's face glowed red as he trotted back to the turbolift and presumably, back to his post. "It was good to talk to you, ambassador."

"Please forgive Lieutenant Schneider," Captain Niang urged. She strode confidently across the observation deck, coming to a stop to Sarek's left side. She slid her hands along the portal ledge and peered into the blackness of space.

"He has committed no grave offense," Sarek replied.

"Probably not but evidently, he forgets that not all senior Federation officials wear Starfleet uniforms, and so I apologize if he was bothering you or being too familiar. He's excited. I think we all are. In a little more than twenty minutes, we might watch history get made."

"History will be made in twenty minutes regardless of the outcome of this test. History is constantly being forged. That is the very definition of history."

Captain Niang smiled, revealing a row of dazzling white teeth behind her dark, full lips. "Fair enough. Where is Sevek?"

Sarek's aide, Sevek, had elected to use his limited free time for meditation rather than observe the demonstration. "He is occupied and hopes you excuse his absence. However, I wish to thank you for inviting me to attend this demonstration."

Gratitude in this instance was illogical, but he had served as Vulcan ambassador to Earth for eighteen months and one of his first lessons regarding humanity had been that humans were conditioned to constantly expect thanks. They thanked each other for basic actions such as holding open doors for others to pass through. It was illogical to be grateful for fundamental politeness that contributed to societal efficiency, but it was also illogical to ignore trivial human customs, especially when participation was simple and cost him very little.

"No, thank _you_ for agreeing to come today to witness it. I know our little detour to test a warp drive must be frustrating when you're trying to conduct diplomatic business."

Her statement only served to illustrate his point about excessive human gratitude. He was a diplomat, but he was also a scientist. It was only natural he would be interested in observing the initial test flight of the Peregrine X7, so why thank him for coming? Still, he knew better than to return the standard human reply of "you're welcome" in this particular instance. It would be perceived as arrogant, surely. Instead, he replied, "Frustration is illogical. Your mission has not yet negatively impacted mine."

"Yes, well, if all goes according to plan today, we can have the shuttle and the warp drive back in the bay tonight and have you on Argelius II two days early. Everyone wins."

"I was unaware this was a competition."

"Simple human turn of phrase."

"I see. And if your mission does not go according to plan?"

Captain Niang offered another smile, smaller and grimmer than her usual cheerful expression. "Then I guess we'll pack up and head to Argelius II anyway to drop you off. Starfleet made it very clear that getting you to these negotiations had priority over testing the Peregrine."

"Logical. The situation with the Argelians has escalated considerably within the past month," Sarek admitted.

"And it's all over that little planet down there?" she asked, nodding in the direction of Arg-117P. "We ran scans when we arrived in orbit. It's only two-thirds the size of Earth and mostly covered in water. Not much room for growth when the total landmass is barely the size of Canada and spread out over three distant continents. We couldn't find any valuable resources of note either, other than some traces of silver and dilithium that would hardly be worth mining."

"Arg-117P is desired primarily for its strategic location," Sarek explained. "Colonization and resource acquisition are secondary considerations."

" _Bridge to Captain Niang_ ," called a melodic voice over an intercom.

She inched to her left and engaged a switch on the wall. "Niang here."

" _Lieutenant Hornsby has left the shuttle bay and is approaching position_."

"Good. You've notified all ships within two light years?"

" _We're out in the proverbial boonies, captain. Long range scans only detect one vessel, the Juniper Carnegie, 1.42 light years away bearing 317-mark-18_."

The captain made a strange face. "The _Juniper Carnegie_?"

" _Some civilian cruise liner bound for Argelius II, ma'am. We've notified them of our test and they are proceeding on course for the Argelius system_. _They'll be out of our hair_."

"Excellent. And what did you get from the last simulation you ran for the Peregrine?"

_"Lieutenant Hicks says most recent computer models still show a 1.6 percent chance of it generating a gravimetric wave of Class 7 or greater. She insists it's not going to get any better than that with current parameters."_

She frowned. "Thank you for the update. I'm on my way. Niang, out." She turned to Sarek and added, "I need to get to the bridge. I hope you enjoy the demonstration, Ambassador Sarek."

He offered a small, deferential nod and clasped his hands behind his back. As the minutes ticked by, more officers began to trickle in to the observation deck to observe the performance of the Peregrine X7. A small shuttlepod bearing the hull designation NCC-1405B appeared on the port side of the ship, outfitted with the prototypic warp drive and manned by a single test pilot.

" _I can't believe Hornsby got to do this_ ," grumbled a slender woman to his right.

"Calm down, Angela," someone said. "Your jealousy is showing."

" _He doesn't deserve to be in history books_ ," the woman muttered. Sarek supposed she hadn't intended her words to actually be heard, but his ears were quite sensitive.

The slender woman, who he inferred was Angela, continued to grumble about Lieutenant Hornsby's exceptional unworthiness to pilot the shuttlecraft until someone quietly told her to " _shut up_ ," while glaring back and forth between Angela and Sarek.

An amber light flashed overhead, followed by a shrill siren proclaiming, " _Yellow alert_." The intercom crackled to life and Captain Niang announced, "Good evening, this is the captain speaking. In one minute, we will engage the Peregrine X7 warp drive on Shuttlepod 2. You've all worked very hard for the past eight months to get to this day, and I thank you for your effort and dedication. While this is an exciting and momentous event, let's not get complacent. This is still a test and things can still go wrong. Let's wish Lieutenant Hornsby luck. Captain Niang, out."

A timer appeared on a small screen on the wall, showing a countdown at thirty-eight seconds. The twin space/warp generators at the rear of the shuttlepod began to glow blue and the room buzzed with excited voices, but when the timer indicated there were three seconds remaining prior the pilot engaging the Peregrine X7 warp drive, something went terribly awry. A vivid blue light erupted from the shuttlecraft, engulfing it in dazzling brightness.

A thunderous _boom_ coincided with the floor underneath Sarek's feet bucking violently, sending everyone on the observation deck crashing onto hands and knees in an awkward tangle of limbs and curses. Sarek's ears were ringing and though the light outside was gone now, the photoreceptors in his eyes struggled to make sense of the rapid transition into darkness, as the observation deck was now dark except for rows of overheard emergency lighting. There was a cracking sound and Sarek could just barely make out a fissure in the thick aluminum glass of the observation deck portal. The crack was expanding rapidly and Sarek knew it was only a matter of seconds before every occupant in the room would be sucked into the vacuum of space. He suddenly felt very calm. 


	3. A Botched Escape

An alarm blared in the distance, snapping Amanda back to wakefulness. She hadn't set an alarm. It was just her luck, really, to finally drift off to sleep and be awoken by some computer malfunction.

" _Computer_ , silence alarm!"

The computer didn't comply. Just as she opened her eyes, her room was flooded with yellow light, nearly blinding her. She clamped her hands over her eyes and fell out of bed. " _Ah_! what the _hell_?"

" _All crew please report to your stations_ ," intoned a voice from a speaker near the door. " _All passengers, please return to your cabins and await further instructions. We thank you for your cooperation."_

She was wide awake now. She stumbled to her feet and raced into the hallway to find a pair of drunken lovers twirling around in circles, oblivious to the alarm.

"Do you know what's going on?" Amanda called.

"It's a party!" the woman cried, her voice obnoxiously shrill.

The man let go of her, sending her careening into the wall. " _Oops_!" The man shuffled toward her, clearly trying to apologize but unable to keep a straight face.

"Stop it, Stephen!" the woman yelled, her words all but slurred together into one.

Suddenly, the ship jumped, sending the couple in the hall to the floor. Amanda barely managed to catch herself on the doorjamb. The alarm continued and the message instructing crew the crew to the stations and the passengers to their cabins was repeated. The hallways began to fill with people, some drunk, some annoyed, and all of them very loud.

People were starting to line up along the long, narrow portals on the opposite wall. Amanda was certain she was going to be sick. She hadn't even looked out of a portal since they'd left the Earth space dock a week ago. She _hated_ space. Why had she agreed to come on this stupid cruise?

Two men in the black crew uniforms were shouting and waving at the far end of the hall and as they got closer, Amanda could hear them saying, "Please, return to your cabins!"

"What's going on?" Amanda asked, rushing forward. "Is everything ok? Are we-"

"Minor spatial disturbance," the man interrupted. The look on his face suggested he'd already said that a hundred times and was getting tired of repeating himself. "Happens all the time."

"Not to _me_."

"Madam, please return to your cabin."

"Not until I know what's going on."

The man rolled his eyes and pursed his mouth into a thin-lipped frown. "I already told you, we've encountered a minor spatial disturbance."

"What does _that_ mean?"

A tipsy woman draped her arm around Amanda and laughed. Her breath smelled like liquor. "It just means we hit a little bump in the road. Probably just a weensy neutronic storm or something. Doubt it's even a Class 2."

"It means go back to your cabin and wait for the captain to indicate it's safe to move around the ship. Both of you. _Please_."

Amanda shrugged the stranger's arm off her neck and pushed her away. She wanted to keep arguing, but it was clear they were at a stalemate. "Uh, sure then. Ok. _Thanks_."

He gave her a pained smile. "Thank you for your cooperation and patience."

She smiled back. She had no intention of cooperating. The corridors were still full of drunken and irritated and frightened people and the crew's tactics of simply asking them to go back to their cabins and remain calm clearly had a similar success rate to asking wild rabbits to kindly stop eating the turnips out of the garden.

She _did_ go back to her room, counted to ten, and then slipped back into the hallway and into the pandemonium. She saw two other crewmembers heading in the opposite direction, a tall woman and a much shorter man, so she casually followed them. The corridors were a maze of humanity, with some idly chatting and others frantically hurrying back to their cabins.

"Hey, 'scuse me!" drawled a large-bodied man, throwing his arm out and nearly clotheslining her. He slumped against a door along the wall, slapped it, and yelled, "Wus tha code?"

Amanda weaved around him, trying to keep the two crewmembers in her sight while staying a comfortable distance behind them. They entered a turbolift at the other end of the hall and disappeared, leaving Amanda cursing under her breath in the swell of obnoxious, human chaos.

It took forever for the turbolift to return and when it did, she gazed at the panel. There were thirty-seven decks on this ship. They could have gone anywhere, minus the deck she was currently on. Her finger hovered over the glass screen and when she found a button that offered to return her to the previous level, she smiled. She brushed her index finger over the button and soared up to Deck 2.

She emerged into an empty hallway that looked like it was home to administrative offices and the like. She heard voices fading to the left and tiptoed along the wall until she spied the mismatched crewmembers. There was an unusual chirping sound and the woman pulled out a communication device on her belt and said, "Yates here."

The voice that came through the device was tinny and quiet, but Amanda could hear clearly enough. " _We need you down in Cargo Bay 2 to help prepare the escape pods_."

"For a few little gravitational waves? Captain Russell is overreacting."

" _Just get there. I doubt we'll even launch 'em. The captain just wants to be ready. Ensley out."_

Before Amanda could concoct an explanation in her head about what it all meant, the ship jerked hard again. She covered her mouth to stifle a scream. She started to walk back to the turbolift, but the crewmembers overtook her in their haste to get to Cargo Bay 2.

"What are _you_ doing here?" the man asked. "All passengers are supposed to be in their cabins."

"What is this about escape pods? And temporal waves?"

"It's really nothing to worry about," the woman insisted, giving her a smile that felt a little too fake for Amanda's liking.

"The captain of this ship is talking about launching escape pods and you're telling me there's nothing to worry about?"

The woman, whose nametag read Johnson, motioned behind Amanda. "Why don't we discuss it in the turbolift?"

She wanted information and wanted it now, but sensed she might get more flies with honey than with vinegar, so she nodded and shuffled into the turbolift. The two crewmembers entered behind her and Johnson glanced over her shoulder to ask, "What deck are you on?"

"Deck 11. Now what's this about gravitational waves? What does that even mean?"

"Some Starfleet vessel was running a test on a warp drive but it was _lightyears_ away. Think of it like throwing a big rock into a pond. It makes a few waves, but we're in a boat far away and so we're only feeling a few little ripples. it'll take something much bigger than that to sink us. You with me so far?"

Amanda gulped. "Uh, yeah?"

"So that's all it is. _Yes_ , the captain has ordered us to make sure the escape pods are in good working order, but it's just a standard precaution—he has seven hundred people on board to think about. In fact, we were due to have a drill tomorrow anyway." The lift came to a halt and the doors sprang open, revealing the hallway Amanda's cabin was situated on. "So you see, there's really no reason to be alarmed. Go back to your cabin, and I'm sure the captain will probably sound the all clear within the hour."

Johnson had such a patient, soothing, and commanding presence that Amanda thought she would be right at home in any leadership position, whether she was trying to control a classroom of rowdy kindergarteners or enforce law and order in a jail full of militant Klingons.

There were still about ten people milling around in the hallway, including the drunk man who had nearly assaulted Amanda when he couldn't remember the code to enter his room. Now he was curled up into a ball on the floor, fast asleep and snoring like a wood chipper.

Back in her cabin, it was hard to settle down. The ship rocked again. It seemed more forceful than the other two, which made no sense according to Johnson's analogy. The neighbors to her right began moaning again and Amanda slapped her hands over her ears, definitely not feeling up to listening to another bout of disorderly lovemaking.

The ship bucked again, and there was no question that it was worse than the previous times, as evidenced by the ugly, mass-produced sculpture that fell from the wall and splattered onto the floor in a dozen pieces. She closed her eyes and tried to think. She needed to _do_ something, to actively participate in trying to remedy the situation, but _what_?

The crew was getting the escape pods ready. She could pack a bag, just in case. Yes, that was perfectly reasonable. She ripped her suitcase from under the bed and upended the carryon bag she'd brought with her on the shuttle to space dock. But what to pack? She dug through her clothes, searching for anything that would be warm and sensible for a few days in an escape pod. What were escape pods even _like_?

In the end, she stuffed most of her socks, underwear, and bras into the bottom, heaped two pairs of jeans, a pair of running shorts, a sweatshirt, two t-shirts, and her tennis shoes into her bag. She threw her hygiene bag in next, though she wasn't sure she would be able to shower in an escape pod, then grabbed her PADD, water bottle, and the stack of books from the end table.

The main pocket of her bag was bulging, but the side pockets were still empty, so she made her way to the kitchen and cleaned all the non-perishable snacks out of the cupboards, including the two quarter liter bottles of spiced rum and vodka that had come complimentary with the room. Amanda wasn't much of a drinker, but she figured she could trade them in a worst-case scenario. The two top pockets were still empty, so she replicated packages of trail mixes and dried fruits and stuffed them in the top pockets until the clips threatened to burst.

She slung it onto her back to check the length and comfort of the straps. It weighed heavy on her back and looked odd and bulky, and odds were, she wouldn't need any of this stuff anyway. Just as she pulled it off her back and tossed it on the bed, thinking she was going mental, the ship shook longer and more violently than it ever had before, sending her to the floor. The lights dimmed and came back on, almost immediately followed by the crackle of the intercom.

" _Attention all passengers and crew, this is the captain speaking. We are experiencing some unforeseen gravitational waves and have dropped out of warp…"_ His voice faded into static, but quickly returned to say, " _We ask you to remain in your cabins at this time but be prepared to receive any additional instructions. On behalf of the crew of the Juniper Carnegie, we thank you so much for your patience and apologize for any-_ "

The intercom cut out again, along with the lights. Amanda sat in the dark for at least five seconds, gulping down huge breaths and doing her best to keep from tearing around the room like a wild animal in a cage. When the lights flashed back on, she tapped the informational screen by the door and said, "Where is Cargo Bay 2?"

" _Cargo Bay 2 is located between Decks 32 and 36 and has seven main access points_."

A map flashed into view with several red dots indicating entrances to the cargo bay. Amanda tossed the bag on her back and sprinted from the room. When she arrived in Cargo Bay 2, she saw about fifteen crewmembers swarming around a large cargo hold.

"Hey, aren't you that nervous lady from earlier?"

Amanda whirled around to see the slender man that had been with Johnson on Deck 2. "Yeah, so?"

"You can't be down here, we-"

The ship shook viciously, which caused the man to pitch forward onto Amanda. She landed hard on her side, sending an avalanche of pain shooting through her left hip. The lights were flickering on and off and it took everything Amanda had to keep from screaming in terror. "I want to get on an escape pod. Where are the escape pods?"

"The captain hasn't authorized-"

Another man uttered a string of swear words behind her and said, "Crikey, Len, just let her get in a damn escape pod if it'll calm her down! We don't have time to babysit the passengers."

The small man smoothed the front of his black uniform coat. "Federation regulations state that-"

"Bugger regulations! Put her in an escape pod—it'll get her out of the way. Besides, it's looking more and more like we'll all be jumping in them soon enough."

Amanda felt the blood drain from her face. She knew she was making a scene, but she was too frightened to care. The smaller man, whose name she presumed was Len, shot her an ugly expression and muttered, "Follow me."

Amanda didn't need to be told twice. She trotted along behind him to a door on the far-left wall that read EP-1. He entered an access code, the door slid open, and he made an over-exaggerated gesture toward the door as if he were an overformal butler inviting a ruling monarch to stay in his master's humble abode.

They found themselves in a short, narrow hallway and Amanda's bag was so bulky he had to squeeze between it and the wall. He cast a disapproving glance over her enormous backpack and asked, "Are you worried you're going to be holed in up the Swiss Alps all winter?"

"I had no idea how long we were going to be in these escape pods," she admitted.

He laughed and shook his head. "This is your first time in space, isn't it?"

Amanda rolled her eyes, wishing she were less frightened and capable of coming up with a witty retort, but since she couldn't, she bit her tongue and crossed her arms. The man entered another code on the wall and the wall slid upward, revealing a large room with ten seats positioned along the walls in a circle facing inward. The space was easily five meters across and had large containers interspersed between the seats.

"Welcome to Escape Pod 1," the man sighed. "Please, sit down and don't touch anything. These escape pods got an annual inspection right before we left port and breaking the seals on the supply containers results in a lot of jumping through administrative hoops. Now I have to go get the rest of the escape pods ready, so if you don't mind…"

Amanda pulled her bag from her shoulders and sat down in a seat near the door. She was starting to feel a little foolish, but it did nothing to alleviate her anxiety. He stepped through the doorway, gave her a little wave, and prepared to close the hatch, but she leaned forward and said, "Thanks. I know you didn't have to do this."

The look of annoyance on his face lessened slightly. "You're welcome."

The door sealed behind her and the emergency lighting came on. It was a large room for one or two people, but ten people would have a hard time getting comfortable in here for any stretch of time. As she looked around, she did her best to avoid looking out the four long, half-meter high portals lining the tops of the interior walls. Space was so vast and terrifying.

Just as she closed her eyes and started to think things were going to be ok, her world was upended. The ship quaked and shook for nearly a full minute, and automatic restraints wove themselves over Amanda's chest and shoulders. Her existence became a rollercoaster, sending her flying in erratic directions. The pod was flipping upside down and backwards and every which way, and through it all, a pleasant female voice rang instructions over an intercom, but Amanda wasn't listening.

The pod suddenly seemed to right itself and twenty seconds after everything seemed normal again, Amanda opened her eyes. She was still alive and nothing had changed. She unhooked her restraints and looked out the door to see if the man was ok, and for the first time in her life, she felt on the verge of fainting.

She wasn't sure if the black spots in her vision were the result of the drop in blood pressure that accompanied psychological trauma or if she was really just seeing the blackness of space, but she was certain that the escape pod was no longer attached to the ship.

She might have screamed—she wasn't really sure—but the _Juniper Carnegie_ was fast becoming a tiny dot in the distance. Worse still, the man who had led her to the escape pod was frozen solid and clinging to the handle of the pod. She didn't really remember any of what happened next, but when she regained consciousness an indeterminate amount of time later, she was hurtling through space without the company of the dead crewman attached to the door. She was on her own now. 

* * *

" _Let's go, let's go! Clear the observation deck!"_

The voices were spoken with a tone indicative of shouting, but to Sarek's sound-shocked ears, they seemed very far away. He felt a strong pair of hands on his shoulders jerking him upright, and he staggered to his feet and instinctively moved to the turbolift. It was already nearly full of people, and though Sarek disliked physical contact with strangers, necessity dictated it in this instance. Two more people entered after him and the doors squeezed closed, encasing seventeen people into a turbolift rated for ten.

When the doors mercifully opened onto a different deck, the mass of people poured out like liquid. An alarm sounded in the distance and the hall was intermittently bathed in red light.

" _Red alert_ ," called a voice over the intercom. " _Red alert_."

The crew began to scamper off in different directions, but Sarek headed for his quarters to find Sevek. He was halfway there when his aide found him. "Ambassador, do you know the cause of this disturbance?"

"There was a malfunction during the test of the Peregrine X7 warp drive. I theorize it has generated a massive gravimetric wave based on a conversation I overheard with the captain, but I cannot be more specific than that."

" _This is Captain Niang_ ," called a familiar voice over the intercom. " _I need all essential crew members to report to their stations. All civilians and non-essential personnel report to the nearest escape pod bays. Niang out."_

Sarek and Sevek exchanged looks and proceeded around the corner to the aft of the ship. He recalled the nearest escape pods were located there during his earlier tour of the ship with the captain. The pods were designed for a single occupant. A crewman appeared and demonstrated how to open the pods, briefly highlighted several essential features, and then urged them to board.

"Live long and prosper, ambassador," Sevek said, raising his right hand in the ta'al.

"Live long and prosper," Sarek repeated, dropping his hand and stepping backward into the escape pod. There was a single, wide chair and a small computer system mounted on the right. There was enough floor space to stand and comfortably turn around, but insufficient space to lie down.

He felt a _wooshing_ sensation followed by a second one, and suspecting the other two escape pods had ejected, he glanced upward to the red ejection switch and depressed it. It was far from a smooth exit.

There was a powerful explosion. His head slammed hard against the rubbed back of the seat, sending flashes of light through his field of vision. The pod was spinning end over end and his stomach threatened to unleash its contents all over the interior. Something was wrong.

He wedged his eyes open and saw a large, orange cloud of flame collapsing back into the ship in the general area from where he believed the pod had ejected. Something was clearly wrong with the inertial dampeners, because it felt like there was a massive weight on his chest threatening to crush him.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a time, and when he finally came to, he was floating several centimeters above his seat, held in place only by the restraints. The gravity field was evidently offline. He blinked several times and peered out the forward portal, noticing he was still in orbit of Arg-117P, but from his vantage point, he could see nothing else.

The escape pod should have ejected him on a course far away from the _Bell_ , but he didn't appear to have traveled any measurable distance. _Peculiar_.

"Computer, what is the current time?"

" _1351 hours_."

That was difficult to reconcile logically. It had been early evening when he'd stood in the observation deck of the USS Bell, waiting to observe a flight test.

"Computer, what is the current stardate?"

" _2251.07_."

Sarek's brows twitched. He had no means of accounting for the time he was unconscious, but he was certain 21.47 years hadn't passed in that timeframe.

"Computer, verify stardate."

" _Stardate is 2251.33_ "

The most logical explanation for the computer's belief that three Standard months had passed in approximately eight seconds was that there was a malfunction. The events surrounding his flight in an escape pod slowly returned to the forefront of his mind. There had been an explosion, so perhaps the escape pod's computer had been affected. It seemed unlikely a blast would cause an error such as that, but he had no other explanation.

"Computer, perform a Level 1 self-diagnostic."

" _Working_."

Sarek rubbed his eyes and glanced back at the planet. It was slowly turning away from the surface and he managed to catch a view of the _Bell_. Lights were flickering on and off near the hull, but there was massive damage to the aft section of the ship. He surveyed the wreckage for nearly a minute until the escape pod turned out of view and back toward the planet. A minute later, the computer announced, " _Diagnostic complete_."

"Computer, what is the stardate?"

" _2254.12_."

Sarek swallowed hard as a slow idea began to form in his mind. The computer believed that approximately three Standard months had passed in the span of eight seconds, and that 2.79 years had passed over a period of approximately ninety seconds. Ancient Vulcan physicists had determined long ago that time was relative to the observer, but he had no immediate explanation for what was causing the computer to believe time had accelerated.

He closed his eyes and repressed several primal emotions. He could come back to the peculiar problem of the stardate, but first he needed a better understanding of his current situation.

"Computer, open a channel to the USS _Bell_."

A soft crackle reverberated through the tiny cabin. He checked the frequency and supposing it was a routine channel, announced, "USS _Bell_ , this is Ambassador Sarek, please respond."

After fifteen seconds with no reply, he repeated himself and was once again only met with silence. He tried two more times before switching to another frequency, and after he had verified these were routine Starfleet channels, he switched to emergency Starfleet channels, but there was still no response from the _Bell_. He tried for the better part of an hour and included the use of light-based visual hailing signals, but there did not appear to be anyone on the ship, or at least, not anyone alive or paying attention.

"Computer, what is the stardate?"

" _2303.82_."

He drew in a slow breath and glanced at the backs of his hands, noting they appeared much as they had prior to his evacuation, excepting a deep bruise in the meat of his left hand. He hadn't physically aged more than seventy-four years in the span of an hour and a half, so that left only three logical conclusions: something was wrong with the computer, something was wrong with his mind, or something was wrong with the way time functioned in this region of space and the computer was unable to recalibrate itself to his perception of time.

Given the failure of the Peregrine X7 and the captain's earlier discussion with a subordinate regarding a 1.6% chance of a Class 7 or greater gravimetric wave, the last option seemed most promising. Though it had never been directly demonstrated or observed, it was theorized that substantial gravimetric waves could form a gravimetric shear, essentially creating a sinkhole in the fabric of space time.

If that was true, the people on the ship could be experiencing time differently than he was, which could explain their failure to answer his transmissions or attempt to rescue him when he was so plainly drifting along their starboard side. While he doubted the single-person escape pod was outfitted with any kind of warp or impulse engines, it would certainly possess thrusters to enable its occupant to maneuver it into position with other escape pods or land it.

"Computer, is this escape pod equipped with thrusters?"

" _Yes_."

"Activate thrusters."

" _Unable to comply_."

He suppressed a trickle of fear. "Explain."

" _Thrusters are non-operational_."

The answer wasn't uniquely surprising: he had exited the ship amid a tremendous blast. It was not unreasonable to believe that if the gravity field were offline, thrusters might also be damaged. But that meant he was trapped. Panic would be illogical, but it took incredible effort to keep it at bay.

He undid his restraints, but without internal gravity, he slowly floated to the top of the pod. He tapped the computer screen on the right and charted his position. There did not appear to be any discrepancies with space, but the stardate in the upper left-hand corner of the screen was ticking upward like it was counting delayed seconds rather than days.

He glanced out the portal to the planet below. If he could not move the escape pod toward the ship, he also could not move it toward the planet. He suspected when he'd been ejected from the _Bell_ , Arg-117P's gravity had overcome the weak inertial force of the escape pod and captured it in an orbit, but it was highly unlikely the orbit was stable. If it was, he would almost certainly die in the escape pod from lack of food, water, or power, whichever ran out first. If it wasn't, there was a significant chance the orbit would decay and he would reach the surface of the planet… _eventually_.

"Computer, display current orbit trajectory."

The spiral that appeared on the screen heralded salvation. The escape pod would reach the surface on its own, but Sarek was already doing the math in his head. At the current rate of decay, it would take approximately 4.12 weeks to reach the surface and it seemed unlikely escape pods carried provisions to last that length of time.

"Computer, calculate time to reach Arg-117P, given current orbit."

" _Four weeks, twenty hours, nine minutes, twenty-seven seconds_."

"Computer, estimate length of time a ninety-eight kilogram Vulcan male could survive on the provisions aboard the escape pod."

" _Adhering to recommended water and nutritional intake outlined by the Federation Health Service, one week, three days_."


	4. Hello, and Welcome

"Computer, where are we heading again?"

" _Arg-117P_."

"Computer, remind me why."

" _Insufficient query_."

Amanda grimaced, trying to maintain her patience. "Computer, why are we going to Arg-117P?"

" _Arg-117P is the nearest Class M planet_."

She'd had this conversation with the computer many times. Her next question would be something to the effect of, "What will we find when we get to Arg-117P?" and the computer would respond, verbatim, "Arg-117P is an uninhabited planet in the Argelian sector. Its atmosphere is comprised seventy-seven percent nitrogen, twenty-two percent oxygen, 0.5 percent argon and…"

She paused. Was it 0.3 percent carbon dioxide and 0.2 percent methane or the other way around? She should know this; she'd heard it at least a hundred times. "Computer, how much carbon dioxide is in the atmosphere of Arg-117P?"

" _0.3 percent_."

A grim smile of satisfaction worked its way onto her face. She'd been right; not that it meant much. After the lengthy description of Arg-117P's many attributes, she would inevitably ask the computer how much longer it would take to get there, and the computer would respond with, " _Unable to calculate."_

Just for laughs, she said, "Computer, without saying 'unable to calculate,' tell me when we'll get to Arg-117P."

" _Unknown_."

"Of _course_ you don't know."

Amanda threw her head back and tossed another pecan in the air. It mocked her by hitting her in the eye. Her father always said "practice makes perfect," but maybe not this time. She'd been at it for what felt like hours and had only managed to get four pecan pieces into her mouth. She'd been cruising through space for… days? Or had it been a week now?

It had taken her a day to suspect there was something wrong with the clock, but without the comfort of Earth's sun or a functional computer, she had no idea what the date was. She marked time by sleep cycles, but every time she awoke, she discovered more time had passed while she'd been asleep. She'd been in denial about it at first, but now she was certain that time was speeding up, because there was no way she was sleeping in four month stints.

Not that she was sleeping much at all, because chances were good that when she closed her eyes and got busy dozing, the image of the slender man clinging to the hatch would resurface and shock her awake. She didn't know what had happened to the _Juniper Carnegie_ and the rest of the people on board, but the fact that no one had come along to rescue her by now didn't feel like a good sign.

She'd tried countless times to transmit a message to the outside, but no one ever answered. She didn't know anything about interstellar communication, so she figured there was a good chance she was doing something wrong. It hadn't stopped her from looking up the communications menu in the computer directory, and the screen that popped up prompted her to enter dozens of parameters for things like frequency, bandwidth, direction, and modulation. It might as well have asked her to recite verses of Klingon poetry.

She was a science teacher and had a good understanding of the physics behind the electromagnetic spectrum, but subspace communication was a whole different beast. People in Starfleet spent years in school learning about it, so even if she _did_ understand the science of how faster-than-light transmissions worked, simply grasping the concept wouldn't have told her what magic series of numbers to enter into each of the fields to actually make contact with someone.

Her general understanding of science also didn't offer any insights on what was going on with the time. She noticed the minutes on the clock above the tiny latrine closet were still ticking by faster than seconds, so fast she could hardly read them. The stardate beneath the time read 2257.80. Either the computer had lost its mind, or _she_ had. Either way, she certainly didn't look or _feel_ fifty-something years old. She threw a pecan at the clock and scowled.

She would have marked the passage of time by meals because she typically ate three solid meals a day and trusted her body more than her mind to estimate time, but yesterday—at least she _thought_ it had been yesterday—she'd begun rationing her food. She was only eating two light meals of about seven hundred Calories per day, which was all she needed because she spent much of her time sleeping and wasn't exercising much.

Escape Pod 1 was outfitted with enough supplies to feed ten adult humans three seven hundred Calorie meals per day for fourteen days, so if she cut her intake back to two meals, she could last another 204 days, maybe _longer_ , if she'd stop playing with the snacks she'd packed aboard the cruise ship.

She surveyed the pod's floor—there were bits of pecan everywhere. She leaned forward onto her hands and started collecting them to put back in the pouch. She might need them later.

Once she'd recovered from her abject terror about being alone in an escape pod with no hope of rescue in sight, she'd discovered how _boring_ space travel really was. She'd finished the three books she'd brought with her and had played the puzzle games on her PADD until she couldn't stand it anymore. The pod had a music library programmed into it along with a few hundred holofilms, but sitting around and watching movies had lost its appeal very early on.

The problem with letting the boredom in was that her mind instinctively returned to the root of her current predicament and began developing fantasies for all the ways in which she might die. Maybe some rogue space debris would strike the pod and it would depressurize, and she would share a similar fate to the poor crewman who had let her into the pod. She could starve to death, or maybe the water cycler would break and she would die of thirst instead. The longer she dwelled on the possibilities, the more elaborate and ridiculous they became.

She could be captured by Klingons and forced to live out the rest of her days in a brutal labor camp. Maybe the latrine would stop working and she would drown in her own excrement. Maybe she would suffer a pulmonary embolism and die choking on her own blood, or _worse_ , maybe she'd cut her finger and die of a routine infection. It was almost laughable, the idea that she could be careening through space in the 23rd century and die a death more closely aligned with some poor bastard in the 19th century. She had a first aid kit stocked with antivirals and antibiotics, so it probably wouldn't come to _that_ , but the first aid kit was only equipped to handle physical ailments, not mental ones.

In all reality, she recognized the greatest threat to her well-being probably wouldn't come from some outside force, but would come from within her own mind. She was somewhat introverted by nature, but no one was meant to be alone like this. There had been countless studies done in the 20th century about the detrimental psychological effects of solitary confinement. She wasn't a prisoner, per se, but the scenario wasn't radically different. She was essentially locked away in a twenty-square meter cell, stripped of all sense of time and unsure when or how it would end.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and banged her head against the wall several times, fighting the urge to cry. Her thoughts turned to her friends and family and all the people she'd taken for granted. She thought of her mother, who had driven her to the space dock. Amanda had been running late that morning and when her mother had asked for a hug at the terminal, she'd rolled her eyes and promised to hug her twice when she got back. What kind of person didn't hug their mother goodbye?

She'd also meant to call her father before she left, but it had slipped her mind. When was the last time they'd talked? A month ago? Two? What had they even talked about? She sifted through her memories, feeling fairly certain he'd called her on her birthday, but found herself hard-pressed to remember the conversation. She formed a reconstruction in her mind of the way the call _probably_ went, based on the way all of their communication for the last ten or fifteen years had gone. No doubt they'd chatted for a few minutes about their uneventful lives likely and tossed around the idea of going camping or hiking, but they both knew they would never actually go. He had remarried ten years ago and he stayed so busy with his new wife and adolescent step-children and Amanda kept herself occupied with work, and so all plans they made had a way of failing to materialize.

She'd toyed with the idea of recording messages for her family on the off-chance her escape pod was ever found, but she hadn't worked up the nerve. Doing that would be like admitting she was going to die, and she wasn't quite to that point yet. Besides, it wasn't like the escape pod was drifting along aimlessly—it was plodding along at Warp 3 toward some alphabet soup destination with an Earth-like atmosphere of seventy-seven percent nitrogen, twenty-two percent oxygen, 0.5 percent argon, 0.3 percent carbon dioxide, and 0.2 percent methane. Whether she would get there tomorrow or a million years from today was anyone's guess.

How fast was Warp 3 anyway? She'd asked the computer every which way she knew how, but it always asked her to, "Define standard."

She shifted position and laid down on the makeshift bed she'd made from seat cushions. She wasn't even remotely tired, but she was tired of thinking. She rolled onto her back and said, "Computer, play a holomovie."

" _Select a title_."

"Computer... I don't know. Surprise me."

" _Insufficient query_."

Amanda slammed her fist on the ground. "Computer, play a random title!"

The cabin darkened and a three-dimensional image appeared in the center of the room. From the darkness appeared a bunch of stars and lines. Against the backdrop of eerie music, the lines transformed to display the word, " _Alien_."

"Computer, cancel holomovie."

The cabin lights brightened. Amanda took a staggering breath, but couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer.

* * *

Sarek had been in orbit of Arg-117P for approximately nineteen days. It was impossible to determine the exact duration because of the period of time he'd been unconscious following his escape from the _Bell_ , but nineteen days was a fair estimate, based upon the number of orbits he'd made around the planet and the current projected time until he was due to reach the surface.

When he'd last asked the computer to verify the stardate, it had told him it was 6571.93, which was fascinating, because it meant time was not accelerating linearly, otherwise, it would be giving a stardate close to 53529. Time was normalizing, but not quickly enough.

He spent long stretches in a state of semi-hibernation, waking only to eat and relieve himself. He was only consuming a quarter of the food he needed to maintain optimal health, but thanks to his decreased energy expenditure and the low gravity environment, he had yet to feel any severe negative effects of his reduced diet.

He could not say the same for his mental faculties. When he could not sleep, he meditated, but like anything else, meditation was only effective in moderation. Even the most disciplined mind could not sustain itself in total isolation with minimal mental stimulation. The escape pod had come equipped with entertainment features, but following the explosion, the computer had been forced to reset itself and all of the games, music, and other files the computer deemed extraneous had been erased in favor of preserving more essential data and functions.

During periods when he was unable to sleep or too restless to meditate, he passed the time by researching information about various celestial bodies in the computer's database, but the information was limited. When he grew weary of learning facts about the soil composition of Tellar Prime or the atmospheric makeup of various nebulas, he resorted to mentally calculating mathematical series or conjugating obscure verbs in the traditional Golic Vulcan.

He also occupied his time by staring out the pod's singular portal. The lights had flickered out on the _Bell_ approximately five days ago, transforming it into a shadow drifting beside him in a geosynchronous orbit. If there was anything to see aboard the remains of the ghost ship, it would have been difficult in the darkness.

Sometimes he busied himself identifying patterns in star clusters, noting several that were similar to Vulcan constellations. The pod made a full rotation every 12.4 minutes and every 71.77 minutes, it completed a full orbit, and so, Sarek had become so well acquainted with the stars in this region of space that he'd started naming them, not out of any particular fancy, but more out of a need to have a proper accounting of his surroundings.

He also observed weather patterns on the planet below. Three days earlier, a circular system had formed over the smaller southern ocean and had grown into a massive hurricane, but it was moving slowly and unlikely to make landfall before dissipating. The computer calculated the pod would land on the largest of the three continents, which was highly fortunate, as much of Arg-117P's surface was covered in water.

His stomach rumbled angrily, but he was not due to eat for another eleven hours. He closed his eyes and focused on ignoring the pain and had very nearly drifted into another bout of restless sleep when he thought he detected movement through his fluttering eyelids. His eyes opened to reveal an object hurtling through space toward the planet. Sarek sat up, released the restraints holding him in his seat, and drifted toward the portal. Whatever it was, it was too far away to visually identify, but it was heading directly for the large central continent.

"Computer, identify object entering Arg-117P's atmosphere, approximate bearing 001 mark 01."

" _Unable to comply_."

The corners of his mouth jerked involuntarily. "Explain."

" _Short-range scanners are non-operational_."

He drew in a ragged breath, willing himself to retain control of his fraying emotions. One thing was evident—the object was slowing down as it broke through into the thermosphere, suggesting that it was being piloted. A meteor, asteroid, or other debris would plummet through the layers of atmosphere and begin burning up in the mesosphere, but this one was in the midst of a graceful descent down to Arg-117P and appeared to be heading for a site relatively close to where his escape pod would land in approximately ten more days.

He stared at the object for another two minutes until his pod rotated sufficiently enough that it was no longer in view. He attempted to estimate the velocity and distance of the unknown object from his current position to establish a rough area where it might land, but without the aid of scanners to compute accurate measurements, all he had to rely on were his eyes, and they were hardly accurate judges. His most liberal estimate determined the object would land within a 3,020-kilometer area that occupied most of the central continent and some of the adjoining ocean.

It wasn't much, but it was the most promising news he'd received in nineteen days.

* * *

" _Please take your seat and prepare for emergency landing in ten minutes_."

Prior to her little unplanned jaunt in space, Amanda would have called herself a heavy sleeper, one prone to sleeping through alarms, but that particular string of words would have woken her from the grave. She flew upright and scrambled to her feet. "Computer, what do you mean landing? Where are we landing?"

_"_ _You have arrived at your destination of Arg-117P. Please take your seat and prepare for emergency landing in ten minutes."_

It took most of the courage she had, but she dared herself to look out one of the long, narrow portals and very nearly fell over in a fit of hysterical laughing. There was a large, spherical object in the distance that could only be described as a planet. It almost looked like _Earth_.

The stars were finally dots again instead of strange blurs and she sensed they were slowing down. She glanced out the window at the planet again, delighted to see it had become larger. So this was to be her final stop—Arg-117P with the nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, 0.91 gravity, twenty degrees Celsius average temperature, 1.8 millisieverts of natural radiation per year and so on. Her Earth away from Earth, more or less.

" _Please take your seat and prepare for emergency landing in nine minutes_."

Her joy quickly faded. Her fears about dying all alone, adrift in space were slowly being replaced by her fears of dying all alone, stranded on Arg-117P. So she could breathe the air and wouldn't be crushed under her own body weight from punishing gravity, but what would she find there? Would there be sufficient food? A source of fresh water? What if she opened the hatch, only to discover the whole place was inhabited by plant species so toxic that just touching them could kill her? Her head started to spin as she ran through a new list of terrible, horrible, worst-case scenarios.

" _Please take your seat and prepare for emergency landing in eight minutes_."

She almost fell into the nearest chair, shocked to realize the automatic restraints winding their way over her shoulders almost felt _comforting_. Escape Pod 1 had been her prison for so long, but it had kept her safe. She took long, slow breaths and was just beginning to calm herself down with the computer announced, " _Emergency landing in five minutes_."

She gazed around the pod, her eyes drifting over the scene but not really absorbing it. Why was she so afraid? She knew nothing about surviving in space, but she knew a few things about surviving on land. It might not be Yellowstone or the Badlands, but those places had given her a primer in self-reliance during her adolescence.

She could almost hear her father's voice, telling her to assess the situation. It occurred to her that she had a one-time opportunity to get spectacular aerial surveillance of her future home, if only she would turn around and look. She twisted in her seat and stretched her back to see out the portal. The planet filled much of the view, revealing itself to be even more Earth-like than she could have hoped.

There were huge oceans interrupted by petite, green land masses. There were steeper mountains far to the north of all three continents that she could see—or at least it seemed like north from her current vantage point. The rest just looked like thick forest.

" _Emergency landing in five minutes_ ," announced the computer.

They were so close to the surface now that it reminded her more of being on a regular aircraft, flying from New Chicago to San Francisco rather than a spacecraft delivering her from one planet to another. The pod seemed positioned to land in a hilly region at the base of the mountains where the foliage was less dense, near a wide river and adjacent to a large pond.

The computer started announcing automatic landing procedures and as much as Amanda wanted to listen, she struggled to take her eyes off the scenery. After endless days in space, she had no idea just how dear trees really were to her soul. When the pod finally settled into a half clearing with a series of bumps, she felt herself torn between jumping up and down like a little girl on her birthday and remaining in her seat to enjoy the full experience of a nervous breakdown.

So this was it—Arg-117P, an uninhabited M Class planet in the Argelian sector, her new home, at least until someone came along and rescued her. Of course, if no one came along, it would also end up being her grave, but she couldn't think about that just now.

She started running through a list of all the things she had an immediate need for—food, water, shelter, and fire—and realized she already had all four, or, at least in place of fire, she had energy to stay warm and cook food, thanks to the pod's power cells. But aside from being able to use the pod as shelter, the other resources were ultimately finite. Even though she hoped in her heart of hearts that someone would be along to collect her tomorrow, she knew she needed to devise a plan to sustain herself here long-term.

She needed to take stock of her supplies. She needed to get a handle on the climate and terrain. She needed to learn more about the technology at her disposal in the escape pod. She needed to organize her thoughts in a more coherent way, but in that moment, the thing she needed most was fresh air and a few minutes to calm down.

She breezed to the hatch, eager to open it but also terrified beyond belief. She hesitated, allowing her mind to linger on the gravity and significance of opening the door to the world outside. This door was the transition between one terrifying chapter of her life and a whole separate chapter that promised to be no less frightening and difficult. She had never hated the unknown so much.

What had Neil Armstrong felt, that first time he stepped out onto the moon? What had Zefram Cochrane been thinking, the first time he traveled at warp speed? What would possess anyone in their right mind to join Starfleet, where they did things like this every day for a living? Her finger hovered over the release button for about three seconds before an almost angry impulse made her push it.

Her ears popped as the air pressure inside the cabin equalized with the surrounding environment. The air was humid and slightly cooler than the inside of the pod, and it was delicious. For the first time in however long, she wasn't breathing recycled cabin air: instead she was inhaling an earthy and organic smell that strongly reminded her of the Pacific Northwest on a rainy day.

Amanda almost forgot that she had ever been afraid as she practically skipped down the short ramp onto the dewy grass below. She twirled in several circles, drinking in the rich blue of the sky, the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and the line of scrubby, blue-green trees that began about fifty meters from the rear of the pod. She wasn't certain if she was the first human, or even the first sentient being, to step foot in this place, but everything about it appeared untouched by the tools of progress.

It was so peaceful and pristine that for a while, she forgot about the fact that she had been unceremoniously deposited here following a tragic accident in space. Arg-117P wasn't just habitable, it was _beautiful_ , and so it seemed strange that such a place wouldn't be crawling with colonists or tourists.

The long, bluish grass was thick and waist high, so Amanda waded to a nearby outcropping of rocks and trailed along it until she reached the pond twenty meters away. It seemed a lot bigger from her vantage point on the ground, but she wasn't sure at what point a pond stopped being a pond in favor of a lake. The water was a perfectly still mirror, reflecting the nearby scenery and sky upon its surface with perfect clarity.

Everything was so calm. _Too_ calm, almost. There were no buzzing insects, twittering birds, or even the rustling of wind through the trees. The harder she listened for any kind of sound, the more her ears imagined she heard something. It seemed strange that she had yet to encounter _any_ kind of animal life.

Amanda wandered toward a copse of trees at the water's edge and squatted down to look for insects, but no sooner had her eyes begun to focus on the soil that she heard a crunching sound behind her. Had she imagined it? She slowly rose to a standing position and turned, shocked to find two massive animals observing her.

They were quite unlike anything Earth had ever produced, at least according to the fossil record as she understood it. They were bulky quadrupeds with oddly jointed legs and curved spines, roughly the size of Grizzlies with blue-gray scales plating their bodies and three long, slender appendages hanging from their faces, which would have reminded her of an elephant with multiple trunks, except that they had barbs protruding from the ends.

They stood at an impasse for nearly two full minutes, observing one each other with open curiosity. The larger one had bits of the blue-green grass in what appeared to be a mouth hidden beneath its facial limbs, so perhaps they were herbivores. She took a chance and inched forward, but the second her left foot shuffled in front of her right, the larger of the two stamped its front feet hard into the ground.

Movement in the brush behind them alerted Amanda to the presence of two more of the animals, who were bluer and much smaller than the larger ones. Their coloration had hidden them well in the blue-green foliage. Amanda froze. Both of the large ones were stomping the ground now and swinging their trunks, all while bleating a sequence of low calls, which the smaller animals answered with high-pitched squeals.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and Amanda glanced back at the escape pod, which was a good thirty meters away and on the other side of the temperamental creatures. Most wild animals preferred to avoid humans, but all the wild animals she was familiar with had spent hundreds of thousands of years learning to dodge human fire and weapons and traps. The concept of "human" meant nothing to these bizarre creatures. Even though the food web as Amanda understood it was clearly lost in translation here, she was fairly confident that a mother's instinct to protect her young was probably not unique to Terran lifeforms.

She would have nightmares about the next ten seconds for years to come. When the larger one reared up on its hind legs, Amanda tripped over her own feet and fell backward. There was a mad scramble that culminated in Amanda scaling the nearest tree with agility that would have made any macaque proud. The massive, scaled animal threw its body into the tree's base, a move that threatened to not only topple her from her perch, but also cause her to lose the contents of her bladder.

It didn't take long for it to abandon its goal of knocking her out of the tree and trampling her to death, but the odd little family was in no hurry to vacate the area. The adults took turns watching Amanda while the other adult and babies splashed in the water. It had to be some kind of record; she hadn't even been on the planet for thirty minutes and had already gotten herself treed by the local wildlife. She would have laughed if she weren't so afraid and it weren't growing so damn cold.

As the sun disappeared into the forest canopy, the sky split into varying shades of indigo and purple, but the bizarre animals had evidently decided to call this place home for the night. She did her best to get comfortable, but the bark was rough and large movements only drew attention to herself. She was stiff, cramped, hungry, and now able to see her breath in the fading light of day, and for the first time, she found herself missing the void of space.


	5. A Rock and a Hard Place

**Arg-117P: Day 10**

Amanda turned in a complete circle, taking stock of her surroundings. She pulled the canteen from the belt on her hip and took a long draught of water. When had she last checked her position? An hour ago? Maybe more?

She pulled the tricorder from the opposite side of her belt, powered it on, found the land surveying application, and inched along in a circle until the tricorder indicated it had detected the escape pod exactly 14.12 kilometers away, bearing N87°W.

The forest floor was relatively open, which she suspected was a consequence of the massive trees overhead blocking the sunlight to any upstart brush or plants that might dare invade. The trees reminded her quite a bit of the giant sequoias in the Redwood Forest, and were she not on a mission of exploration, she would have loved to flop down on her back in the soft loam and stare up at the impressive canopy until nightfall.

But the wind was shifting, the sun was descending toward the horizon, and the temperature was growing colder. It was already late afternoon and it would take her about two and a half hours to get back to the pod if she turned around now. Today had been a bit of a bust. She hadn't found any new sources of food or discovered any new species of animals on today's outing, which after the night she'd spent in the tree by the lake, thanks to the hospitality of the large, highly territorial creatures she'd dubbed "armadillaphants," wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

The past ten days had featured moments of crawling tooth and nail up a brutally steep learning curve, punctuated by periods of boredom and occasional experiences of wonder at her current surroundings. The first morning, after the armadillaphant family had cleared off and she'd climbed down from the tree, she'd discovered little ferret-like mammals, which she'd taken to calling rikki tikkis because they made a funny clucking sound and reminded her a bit of the titular mongoose from her favorite Kipling short story, had started eating through her rations in the night. Leaving the pod open while she went wandering had cost her a week's worth of food, and it was a costly mistake she didn't care to repeat.

And so, she'd spent the first two full days going through her supplies and setting up a semi-permanent camp. In the exterior compartments of the pod, she found all manner of tools, some of which, like the ax and tarps, had fairly obvious functions, while others remained a mystery. She recognized the laser cutter because her father had owned one, but she had yet to devise a use for it, though she suspected it might end up being useful if she wanted to do some stone cutting or remodel the interior of the pod.

She'd also ended up with other things that could be potentially useful, such as two hand phasers, which she was nervous about using, and ten trunks of supplies meant to outfit ten survivors in a wide variety of climates. There was clothing, bedding, and footwear in varying sizes for hot weather, cold weather, wet weather, and even atmospherically unfriendly environments. She'd ended up with a pair of great hiking boots and a comfortable sleeping bag.

Of all the tools at her disposal, the most useful one had proven to be the tricorder. She'd found the tricorders packed into the cases with the hand phasers, and at first, she'd thought they were just more pieces of technology that were nice to have, but not really necessary. Then she found out they could analyze plant species and tell her what was safe to consume. She'd inadvertently discovered this feature when she scanned a nearby tree and learned the pulp was edible and roughly the nutritional equivalent of soy, even if it was bitter and smelled faintly of dirty socks.

She'd found a type of fruit that was safe to consume on a cluster of squat bushes on the other side of the creek half a kilometer from her pod, and while they were sweet and reminded her of plums, the few she'd found seemed overripe and largely picked over by animals. She'd also catalogued three types of tuberous roots that were safe to eat and only yesterday, had found something resembling a type of wild grain at the edges of the grasslands. Thus far, she'd stuck to eating the rations, but every time she encountered something native to the planet she could eat, she felt a tiny bit safer.

The tricorder had many other essential functions besides helping her pin down potential food sources. It could calculate the speed of moving objects, which she'd tested several days ago on a flock of reptile-like animals flying over the lake. She could scan for life forms according to size, and after encountering a certain species, she could scan its biomarkers into the device, which would allow her to know if that specific species of animal happened to be nearby. She still had some work to do with making use of that specific feature, because after she'd scanned one of the rikki tikkis one afternoon, the tricorder had exploded in a series of beeping that refused to end until she'd shut the biosigns program down. The readings hadn't exactly been surprising—the little animals lived underground and at dusk were so active and abundant that she could barely walk around outside without stepping on one.

The tricorder was also able to read the composition of soil, rocks, and water. It had programs to analyze the air temperature and quality and could alert her to the possibility of rain and other weather events. Amanda still hadn't worked out how to do more advanced weather forecasting, but even knowing the weather two hours in advance had already proved to be a handy feature in averting getting caught in yesterday afternoon's brief thunderstorm.

It was vital to navigation, because it could give her an exact position on the planet within a meter and had an application that allowed her to map areas she'd already explored. All in all, it was the most useful tool she'd ever had, so much so that she thought about getting one for herself when she got home. _If_ she ever got home.

She'd been on the planet for ten days. To be technically correct, the duration of a day on this planet was actually about twenty-seven hours, but when taken in conjunction with all the time she'd spent in the escape pod getting here, it was hard to believe that someone hadn't come along and found her yet. Amanda figured she had to have been missing for at least a month now, which didn't make much sense. She knew space was big, but it couldn't be _that_ big, could it? And didn't the Starfleet and the Federation Space Patrol and merchant ships and luxury cruise liners all come equipped with fancy scanning devices?

A dark thought had been forming in the back of her mind for weeks now, but she didn't want it sneaking into the fully conscious part of her brain and tormenting her further. Space was big and people went missing in it all the time. At least once a month, there was a blurb in the news cycle about some pleasurecraft disappearing on a routine trip from Earth to Tellar Prime or a crew of junk salvagers getting lost in a nebula and never being seen again. It was sad, but no one ever really dwelled on those kinds of stories for long. The Federation had billions upon billions of citizens, so surely such things were bound to happen every so often.

Even so, the loss of a large cruise liner like the _Juniper Carnegie_ would have commanded a primetime news presence, at least for a day or two. What must her poor family be thinking, watching coverage of the story? Would local reporters show up at her mother's house asking questions? The thought of her mom crying on the nightly news was enough to bring tears to her eyes. What would her students think? Winter break was over and classes had resumed by now. How would the school break the news of Miss Grayson's tragic disappearance to the kids?

She didn't know for sure what happened to the ship, but the more time went on, the more she worried that people had stopped looking for her, or maybe had never started looking in the first place. Worst case scenario, the ship had been destroyed and everyone had died and the authorities had swept that area of space to collect the bodies. They wouldn't be expecting to find a survivor in an escape pod, and it seemed reasonable that if they never found a body they could match to Amanda Grayson, they'd just write her off as missing. Or maybe people had made it into the escape pods and were later picked up, but judging by how drunk half the ship was before the incident, it seemed entirely possible a few people might have died or gone missing in the ensuing pandemonium.

Part of her didn't want to think about it, but it fit into the narrative of her much larger problem. Amanda wasn't sure how to make the best use of her time. Should she spend her days tinkering with the communications equipment, trying to figure out how to broadcast an SOS message to the universe at large, or was her time better spent establishing a more permanent settlement? Ever since her arrival, she'd taken to walking wider and wider circles around the pod, looking for food or anything interesting, but if she were being perfectly honest with herself, she was seeking out other survivors. If the escape pod had set an automatic course for Arg-117P, it seemed at least _possible_ that other escape pods had done the same.

In the end, she decided to explore, forage, and establish a camp before doing anything else. Hoping for the best but planning for the worst seemed like a sound policy, particularly because it seemed like the region was on the cusp of a winter season. She didn't know if this planet had four regular seasons, but if she was on Earth, she wouldn't hesitate to call it autumn. Most of the fruit had been stripped from the bushes and the subterranean rikki tikkis spent a lot of frenzied time picking over the grasslands, much like ground squirrels did in preparation for colder weather. The days were warm enough, especially in the sunlight, but the mornings were so chilly she could see her breath.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned in a circle. It was getting colder even now and so Amanda decided to head back to the pod, reasoning that if she walked at a good pace, she'd get there just at sunset.

A dragonette called in the distance, setting off a cacophony of wailing throughout the forest. Arg-117P was home to many species of flying reptiles. She supposed evolution on this planet had taken a slightly different turn, such that the flying animals had never bothered to produce feathers. They were more or less this planet's equivalent of birds, but she couldn't call them that, not when they looked so very dragon-like, so she'd taken to calling them dragonettes.

When the dragonettes' shrieks grew louder and the treetops started to rustle as they took flight, Amanda looked around to see what had them so upset. She scanned the area with her tricorder, but detected no large animals nearby. When she wandered into a clearing, she saw something that nearly made her heart stop.

There was a small object hurtling toward the planet, like an asteroid or a meteor. It had a bright orange tail, suggesting parts of it were burning up in the atmosphere. The trajectory looked like it was going to fall directly on top of her, but it was still so far away that it would be impossible to tell where it would land. Or was it? She held up the tricorder and tried to lock in the object on the motion detector. It was falling at a speed of about ten kilometers per second, but it was _slowing down_.

Seconds ticked by and soon it was falling at eight kilometers per second, then seven, then six. She switched over to the chemical composition program and after some initial trouble of filtering out the ambient gas composition of the sky, she determined it was an object made primarily of duranium. Weren't ships made of duranium?

It was getting closer now but was still too far away to clearly identify with the naked eye. Her arms were tiring of holding the tricorder over her head, but she followed its trajectory until it disappeared over the horizon. By the time she could no longer see it, it had slowed to a speed of 0.3 kilometers per second, or a little faster than a hundred kilometers per hour, which was a reasonable driving speed for a shuttle car.

Amanda didn't need an advanced degree in physics to know there was no way it was a meteor or any other natural object. When she finally lowered the tricorder to give her exhausted arms a rest, she realized her heart was racing. Whatever that object was, it seemed very likely it was another escape pod, or maybe a shuttle. She paced in erratic circles, wondering what she should do.

The only obvious answer was to check it out. But where had it landed? She pulled up the motion detection program again and tried to sync it with the land surveying program, a task that was made difficult because her hands were shaking. It took her nearly half an hour to figure it out, but the tricorder finally produced an estimate of its approximate landing location based on its inbound trajectory. It was roughly sixty-four kilometers away—a quick jaunt in a shuttle car but a full day's journey on foot. _More_ , maybe, depending on the terrain.

She looked up at the sun, shocked to see its low position in the sky. She'd wasted so much time watching the object and bothering with the tricorder that she would have to jog back to the pod to make it there before sunset. She felt torn. She wanted to race in the direction of the unknown object, but she lacked the supplies to spend the night outside. The smart thing to do would be to head back to the pod, pack a bedroll and a bag, and set off fresh in the morning.

She put the tricorder back on her belt, glanced over her shoulder, and whispered to the people she so desperately hoped were in the unidentified object, "Whoever you are, I'm here. I'm coming."

* * *

The water cycler had quit functioning four days ago to conserve power and he'd consumed the last of his rations two days after that. He was malnourished, hungry, and severely dehydrated, and now the forces exerted on his body were becoming so great he was on the verge of losing consciousness.

Lack of inertial dampeners were making his descent to the planet rather unpleasant, along with the return to gravity. While he'd been in orbit, the low gravity had masked the true extent of his weakened physical state, but now that he was plummeting toward the planet, it felt like his weight had quadrupled.

He tried to open his eyes to observe his entry into Arg-117P's atmosphere on the computer's monitor, but the pod was shaking and rattling so hard he wouldn't have been able to focus. There were many ways he could die in the immediate future. There was a significant chance that the pod had sustained enough damage to the exterior that it would burn up when it entered the mesosphere, or that the landing equipment had also been rendered non-operational and he would crash into the planet at full speed. Given the state of the pod and its critical systems, his death seemed quite probable indeed.

Sarek began meditating on the events of his life and the nature of death. After twenty-nine days trapped in an escape pod, he felt prepared for whatever came. The blood began to rush through his ears and he concentrated on it until it became too loud to ignore. He opened his eyes, startled to find that the black void of space was now a deep indigo color that was rapidly lightening. The escape pod seemed to be slowing, but he had failed to notice due to the increasing gravity.

The computer to his right was blaring a series of messages and alerts, but he was too dazed and light-headed to focus. He was teetering on the cusp of consciousness when a sudden, opposing force slammed up from underneath the pod, flinging him into the restraints on his seat. He almost felt stationary. Perhaps the secondary thrusters had managed to engage to cushion his landing. His eyes flickered open and he saw vivid blue sky outside the front portal, with blue-green foliage was rapidly coming into view.

There was three seconds of near silent tranquility as the pod raced toward the treetops, and then there was chaos. Sarek's existence became full of the snapping of tree limbs, violent crashing, flipping, spinning, and flashes of light cartwheeling through his field of view.

When he woke up, his initial thought was that he'd sustained damage to his eyes and was now blind. His head, chest, and shoulders were in agony. It took him several moments to recognize that the pod was lying on its side with the portal face down in the dirt and he was suspended in a seated position with his chest supported by the restraints.

He wriggled in the seat to try and free himself, but gasped as sharp, searing pain tore through his shoulders and left arm. The agony took his breath away and he nearly fainted again, but he focused on his breathing. Logic demanded it.

When Sarek reopened his eyes, he discovered he was not in fact blind, but that it was night and most of the natural light of the moon and stars wasn't visible because the portal was half-buried in the soil. After several false starts and despite excruciating pain, he managed to free himself from the restraints and sat down on the wall of the pod, which was now the floor.

He felt around for the release latch and soon realized the pod had fallen face down onto the only point of egress. He was sitting on the door. The exterior of the escape pod was cylindrical so he tried flinging his weight into the wall in front of him roll it over enough to expose the door and create a means of escape, but it was much too heavy. It was made of reinforced duranium—he doubted he would have had the strength to roll the pod even if he weren't injured and starving.

Sarek laid down and curled his knees up to his chest, trying to ignore the awful, throbbing pain and fighting valiantly to suppress his feelings of anger, frustration, and disappointment. He had survived an explosion, twenty-nine days in a cramped escape pod with insufficient supplies, and a brutal crash landing onto a planet, only to receive a death sentence in the form of being trapped in the very escape pod that had saved his life.

He drifted off to sleep, wondering if he would wake. His final thought was that there was some comfort in the fact that he was already halfway dead and would not have to suffer much longer.

* * *

Amanda glanced up at the sun and smiled. She was making excellent time and felt like she could easily keep going.

She'd returned to the pod the night before, carefully packed a bag, and tossed and turned all night long. She'd risen before the sun came up, bid the rikki tikkis goodbye, and set out at a hopeful pace. There were times she had to stop herself from running. She'd stopped only to tie her boots, relieve herself, and dig around in her bag for a pouch of the trail mix she'd replicated on the cruise ship. She'd thought about sitting down to eat, but many day hikes with her father had taught her the value of eating on the move.

She had a sense she was veering too far east, so she pulled the tricorder from her belt to make sure she was still on course for the object. Her initial reaction was a swell of glee at the realization that she'd already covered fifty-two kilometers, but her good mood took a hit as she noticed her hours of easy cruising over generally flat terrain were probably over.

She'd spent the last hour skirting the edge of the hills to the west, but if she was to remain on course, she would no longer be able to avoid entering the hill country. She sat down on a large rock and weighed her options. The hills were rocky and steep, and this _was_ uncharted territory. No park service had ever come through here and cut trails into the rock. She had a good pair of boots but no real climbing equipment to speak of, and so if there were a way to go around the steep hills without adding too much distance to her trip, she would gladly take it, but without any knowledge of the terrain, it was all just a guess. 

How strange it was to be in a place where she lacked access to proper maps and satellite imaging: Earth had been charted down to the _pico_ meter. She knew where the object was, but she had no idea what kind of terrain it had landed in. There was a decent chance the hills went on for many more kilometers and if that was the case, there would be no going around them to get to her destination anyway.

Amanda leaned forward and studied the topography of the area she'd already covered on the tricorder's small screen. Her foot started shaking, but she was so engrossed she didn't immediately notice. She looked left into the forest and right into the hills, and after another minute of deliberation on the pros and cons of both, stood and headed for the hills.

The slope was forgiving at first and she kept a good pace, but soon she found herself having to use her hands to wind around rocks and pull herself up low ledges. She was forced to stop more frequently to catch her breath and check her position, and she had a few close calls when the weight of her backpack nearly put her off balance, but she was thankful the terrain remained relatively manageable. It took her two hours to cover another seven kilometers, but if she pushed herself and didn't encounter any more surprises, she could potentially make it to the object before sunset.

When she finally reached the crest of a steep, slanted section of the trail, she was delighted to find there was a long stretch where the land plateaued, and it took considerable discipline to stop herself from skipping through the scrubby brush. She leaned forward, adjusted the weight of her bag on her back, and took a deep breath. She was up high enough now to enjoy a scenic view of the winding forest below, so she figured it was a good occasion to take another topographical recording on her tricorder.

Soon enough she was off again, but it wasn't long before her calf muscles were screaming from the demands of walking at such a brisk pace. She knew she should slow down, but the part of her soul that craved the company of other people demanded to be heard, and so she broke into an impatient jog. She was only five kilometers away now and finally allowed herself to start thinking about what she might find when she got to the pod.

She wanted to be mentally prepared for any eventuality, but it was hard thinking that she might not find anything. Maybe the object really was just some kind of meteor or debris. She didn't know what she would do if that were the case. But what if it really _was_ some kind of space craft or another escape pod? If it was from the _Juniper Carnegie_ , it had been in space a full ten days longer than she had, and if it was full to capacity with ten passengers, what if they had run out of food and water? What if it had crashed and they had all died? What if it wasn't from the cruise ship at all and was actually full of Orion slavers or something equally dark?

Her spiral of negativity was enough to slow her into a walk, but the moment her pace shifted, she tripped over something jutting out of the rocky soil. She fell hard onto her hands and knees, prompting her to utter a string of curses. She furiously rubbed her knees to try and dull the sharp pain, and then she noticed a broken bone protruding from the dirt.

She crawled forward to look at it, wondering what animal it could have come from. It was far too small to belong to one of the armadillaphants and much too big to belong to any other species of animal she'd yet encountered. It appeared to be old, which was strange, because nature rarely allowed calcified objects like bones or antlers to sit around for long. But then again, that was nature as she understood it on _Earth_.

She scanned the broken piece with a tricorder, which took a long time to return a result, and it was a result that made Amanda's blood run cold. According to the device in her hand, there was an eighty-eight percent chance the bone was a human femur. She flung it away from herself and shook her hand erratically. How was that _possible_?

She rooted around through the thorny bushes, and it didn't take her long to confirm the tricorder's results. Wedged in the dirt under a woeful-looking shrub was a pile of bone fragments, the largest of which was big enough to give her the impression it had once belonged to a human jaw. She couldn't help it: she screamed.

How long had these remains been here? She looked for a chemical dating feature in the tricorder's programs, but couldn't find one off hand. She paced back and forth, cursing under her breath and trying to make sense of it. The bones looked _very_ old and weathered, so maybe someone had gotten stranded here decades ago and died. That was certainly a reasonable explanation, but it did little to make her feel better. _She_ was stranded on this planet too. Would this be all that was left of her someday?

Amanda leaned forward and put her hands on her knees, taking measured breaths and fighting to remain calm. She was shaking and on the verge of tears.

"Damn you!" she screamed at the pile of bones. " _Damn you_!"

She screamed every swear word and insult she knew, for reasons she couldn't even understand. Was she yelling at the dead person? At the people who had left this person here to die? At _herself_?

She'd spent all day racing toward an unknown object, spurred forward by the excitement and hope that she would find people. A pile of bones wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, wincing from the superficial scratches she'd sustained from her fall, and set out in the direction of the object. She wasn't even bothering to be careful now, and she stumbled several times descending a long, steep hill. Late afternoon was threatening to become dusk and she wondered if she should set up a camp for the night, and then she insulted herself for wanting to quit. It was reckless, but she was riding too high on anger and frustration and fear to care.

The natural trail led into a moderately level valley with monstrous hills to the left and gentler knolls to the right. The trees were taller here and there was less undergrowth, which made her progress easier. She pulled the tricorder from her belt to assess her position and nearly dropped it in shock.

Not only was it detecting the presence of a large amount of duranium directly one kilometer ahead, it was also picking up the biosign of a large lifeform which was also one kilometer away, and it had identified it as _Vulcan_. She didn't even bother trying to reaffix the device to her belt. She took off at a sprint. She would have laughed if she wasn't using the full power of her lungs to run.

The natural light of the sun was fading fast, but in the distance, she noticed what seemed to be an enormous, black boulder that simply didn't belong in this environment amid several broken trees and fallen branches.

" _Hello_?" she sputtered, too out of breath and running too hard to manage a longer greeting. "Hey!"

It was definitely an escape pod, but one meant for a single person. It was a little disappointing—she'd been hoping for a group of people—but the presence of this Vulcan person was without question the best thing that had happened in weeks.

She was running so fast she had a hard time slowing down and actually ran into the escape pod. The outside was badly damaged and it seemed to be leaning on its side, but she could still read lettering on the side that said "USS _Bell_."

Where was this Vulcan? She walked around the pod, wondering where the door was. There wasn't even a window.

" _Hello_?" she yelled.

A soft thud escaped from inside the pod and Amanda slammed her hands on it, crying, " _Hello_? Is someone in there?"

"Yes." The reply was so soft she could swear her ears were playing tricks on her. She also feared her heart was about to burst out of her chest, either from joy or excessive exercise.

"Um, hi, uh, my name is- I'm Amanda," she stammered, unsure of the best way to introduce herself in this situation. "Are you, are you _stuck_ in there?"

There was a muffled response. She put her ear to the pod and yelled, "I can barely hear you."

"The escape pod is laying on the only point of egress," the person inside replied. The voice was rich and masculine, but his speech was stilted, like he was in pain.

She stepped back. The pod was big, but _surely_ , she could push it over. "Hang on, I'm going to try and roll it on its side, ok?"

"Yes, thank you."

She laughed at the perfectly polite reply. She threw her weight into the pod, but it barely budged. She ran around to the other side and saw the problem—it was leaning against a large, mostly buried boulder. She tried pushing from that side, but couldn't summon the power to roll it in the opposite direction either. She walked a full circle around the pod, noticing a hole in the canopy of trees where it had broken through. This poor guy must have had one hell of a landing.

Maybe she couldn't move the pod, but she could move dirt. She fell to her knees and clawed at the soil, quickly finding a section of glass on the underbelly of the pod that had to be part of a window. She tapped on it and almost immediately, the person inside responded by pressing his hand to the glass. Her heart soared once again.

"Um, so I can't move the pod, but I'm going to try and dig you out, ok?"

"Your efforts are greatly appreciated."

She laughed again at his odd, polite formality, but when her nails scraped rock a minute later, her spirits sank. She tried digging around it to find the edges and pull it out, but she started to suspect the rock was actually a buried part of the partially exposed boulder on the other side of the pod.

"No, no no no no _no_!"

"What is the matter?" the man asked.

"There's a rock."

"Are you able to remove it?"

"N-no. No, I don't think so."

He didn't reply. Amanda sprang to her feet and slapped the pod in despair. She wanted to hurl herself at it until it either moved or she broke some bones trying, but a tantrum wasn't going to help the situation.

"Can you see any other means of moving the escape pod?" the man asked.

"No, I sure can't," Amanda replied, her voice almost a low growl. "But I don't care. We're getting you out."


	6. Escape and Discovery

**Arg-117P: Day 11**

Amanda wasn't sure whether her hands were shaking from the cold or nervous excitement, but she took her time hacking the branches off the young tree. Accidentally taking a hand off with the hatchet in a place like this could be a fatal mistake.

The escape pod had destroyed seven trees and had ripped large branches off others, so Amanda counted herself fortunate that the hard part had already been done. She had a decent length of wood about three meters long and relatively straight, and all she needed to do was remove the thick offshoots from the branch and then she would have a very handy lever.

This particular species of tree had very sticky sap that was staining her hands a dark color, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered: not the cold or the darkness or the aches settling into her muscles from her day's lengthy trek. She wasn't alone anymore.

She squinted in the darkness and scanned the tiny light of the tricorder over her lever once again. There were some rough spots and some nubby branches at the ends, but she didn't need it to be perfect, she only needed it to work. She hacked the end into a flat tip to be able to slide it under the pod and then scanned the scene for a suitable fulcrum. For the price of some sweat and strained muscles, she managed to drag another felled tree into a parallel position next to the pod. This was going to work. It _had_ to.

She gently tapped on the pod. "Um, hello? It's Amanda."

She barely finished her sentence before she made a face and shook her head. What a stupid thing to say. It wasn't like there was a bustling party going on outside the pod.

His reply was calm and perfectly polite. "Yes?"

"Uh, I um- I managed to make a makeshift lever. I'm going to try and roll the pod to the left. Well, _my_ left. Wait, which direction are you facing?"

"I presume from the noise you were making that you intend to use the lever on that side."

"Yes."

"Then it is obvious which direction you intend to roll the escape pod."

Amanda cringed and started to wonder how many other ways she might be able to look like an idiot. "Ok, well, just, you know, brace yourself, ok?"

"I will. Thank you."

She wedged the lever into place, rested it on the tree branch she intended to use as a fulcrum, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the end. The pod barely moved. She tried to balance her weight on the end of the lever, and though the pod wiggled a bit, it clearly wasn't going to budge.

" _Uuuuuurrrrrgggghhh_!" she grunted, jumping back to the ground.

She needed more weight on the end of the lever. Amanda grabbed her rucksack and started looking around for anything she could add to it to make it heavier when she heard muffled sounds coming from the pod.

"Did you say something?" she asked, stepping closer to hear him better.

"Are you having difficulty?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for something heavy to put in my rucksack to increase the force on the end of the lever."

"The more logical solution would be to move the fulcrum. In order to reduce the force needed, the distance over which the force is applied must be increased, which can be achieved by moving the fulcrum closer to the load."

Amanda wanted to kick herself. She knew that. _Of course_ she knew that. She spent a whole month every year teaching her sixth graders all about simple machines—pulleys, levers, wedges, and so on. Her method wouldn't have been _wrong_ , but his method was much better.

As she so often did when embarrassed, she turned to self-deprecating humor. She chuckled, pulled the lever out from under the pod, and replied, "Well, maybe I prefer to work harder rather than smarter."

He responded with something that sounded like "theological" or "illogical," but she wasn't really listening. It was getting so cold that she was tempted to put on her jacket, but she could get warm later. She ended up having to sit down on the ground and push the log with her legs, and after scooting it forward half a meter, she tried again.

She had to bounce up and down, but after several small wobbles, the pod rolled a half turn and sent Amanda crashing to the ground when the lever was freed. Laughter erupted from her mouth as she instinctively half crawled, half ran to the pod. She peered through the portal but could barely see in the dark. The cold had reduced the dexterity of her fingers, but she managed to fumbled around the edges and find an exterior emergency release.

She pushed it and the hatch pushed out and then flipped open. The stench poured out, threatening to overwhelm her. It took monstrous willpower to keep from retching at the mix of staleness and urea. It was dark, but she could make out his form curled up in the fetal position at the bottom of the pod.

"Are you ok?"

There was a low, ragged breath, followed by a soft response. "Thank you."

"Here, let me help you," she urged, reaching into the pod and groping around to find his arms.

He flinched at her touch and tried to sit up, but it was clear he was in obvious pain. Why hadn't she thought to bring the first aid kit?

"Are you hurt?"

He sat back on his haunches, then attempted to stand on shaking legs. Amanda bolted to her feet to try and help steady him, but he refused her offer. His body was hunched forward and he was taking deliberate, slow breaths.

He was like no Vulcan Amanda had ever met, not that she'd ever met a Vulcan. Occasionally one would appear on the news or as a background character in public service announcements about diversity. There had even been a Vulcan administrator at her college and every so often she'd glimpse one on the bus or at the supermarket, but she'd never actually held a conversation with one. So they were familiar enough that she could easily distinguish a Vulcan from one of the Federation's many other species—Vulcans were tall, usually slender people with upswept brows and shiny, severe haircuts.

But this man was different. He had all the hallmarks of a person who'd been isolated from civilization and forgotten. His hair was shaggy and unkempt and his gaunt cheeks were masked by a full beard. Amanda hadn't even realized Vulcans could grow facial hair—it seemed as strange as encountering a bearded baby. He wore long, elegant robes and even in the dark, Amanda could tell that despite their wrinkles and foul smell, they were well made.

"Uh, can I… can I help in some way?"

He turned to face her, his mouth slightly downturned. "Do you have water?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, right away," she replied, racing to her rucksack to find her canteen, which he took with a shaking hand.

"It is regrettable that you should have to find me in such a state."

"Don't apologize," she breathed, taking a step back. "It's not like it's your fault."

"I was not apologizing," he explained, drawing the canteen up to his mouth and wincing. "I was merely acknowledging the unfortunate situation." He sputtered from the first sip of water, but after a prolonged drink, handed the canteen back to Amanda.

"Keep it," she insisted. "I have another one in my bag and we can always filter more."

She noticed the shaking in his hands had spread to the rest of his body. It was getting colder and now that she was no longer hard at work trying to free him from the pod, a definite chill was settling into her bones.

"Um, why don't I get a fire started? Are you hungry?"

"Yes. I have been on reduced rations for an extended period of time."

"I have a couple of ration packs," she offered, turning back to her rucksack to rifle through its contents.

The man stepped out of the pod and braced himself on its shell. She watched him from the corner of her eye, worried he was either going to faint, vomit, or start crying.

"I have vegetable ravioli, chicken and rice, spicy beef…"

He rendered an expression so subtle she barely noticed it, but he seemed surprised and conflicted. "Do you have sufficient food for yourself?"

"Yeah, I have a pod about a day's journey from here. I have a lot more where this came from."

"Are there other survivors?"

Amanda swallowed hard. "No. It's just been me. You have no idea how happy I am that I found you."

He cocked his head. "Do not underestimate my relief at being found."

She smiled and nodded. "So _please_ , eat. It's no trouble. What'll you have?"

"The vegetable ravioli will be acceptable, thank you."

She extracted the silver pouch marked "Vegetable Ravioli in White Sauce" from her rucksack and pulled her sleeping bag from the straps at the top.

"Here," she said, presenting him with her offering. "It's a sleeping bag, but you can convert it into a blanket by unzipping it at the corners."

"Do you have medical supplies?"

She winced and shook her head. "Not with me, but I do back at my pod. How bad are you hurt?"

"I believe I fractured my collarbones and many of my ribs."

" _Seriously_?" Amanda gasped, shocked he could even stand up and talk to her.

"I would not have said it if it were not true."

She glanced around at the broken trees and the wreckage of the pod. Given the extent of the damage to the forest canopy, it was impressive he wasn't a Vulcan-shaped pancake splattered on the pod's wall. Amanda started breaking off some of the shattered trees' branches and assembling them into a stack for a fire. The man disassembled the sleeping bag and pulled it around his shoulders, and then started examining the pouch.

"Oh, you just pull the tab on the side and it heats up really fast," she said, pantomiming the motion.

"Yes, that is what the instructions indicate."

Amanda bit her lip and went back to cutting scraggly limbs from a Y-shaped branch with her hatchet. Was he being sarcastic? She watched from the corner of her eye as he ripped the tab from the pouch and began to eat. It was clear he was trying to preserve some bit of decorum, but it was also clear he was on the verge of literally starving.

Amanda pulled the wilted leaves off some of the smaller branches and lit them with the firestarter. It was going to take some time to get a steady flame going, so while she continued feeding it leaves as she waited for the logs and branches to catch fire, she stole a few glances at her Vulcan companion. He had finished eating and was watching her closely, which she found a bit unnerving.

"So, what's your story?" she asked. "How did you get here?"

"I was aboard the USS _Bell_ ," he said, glancing at the pod emblazoned with silver lettering that read USS _Bell_ , almost as if he were expecting the broken vessel to confirm his story.

"So what was the _Bell_ doing in this part of space?"

"The ship was in orbit of this planet, designated Arg-117P by the Federation. Approximately thirty days ago, one of the _Bell_ 's shuttles performed a test on a prototypic warp drive and there was a malfunction. I cannot be certain what occurred next, but I theorize it created a gravimetric shear, one substantial enough to damage the _Bell_. An order was given to evacuate, and I boarded an escape pod, but it was damaged in an explosion as it was ejected. I have been in orbit of this planet ever since, and last night, the orbit finally decayed enough that I was able to crash land here."

"You've been trapped in that escape pod for a _month_?" Amanda gasped, rubbing her sap-stained hands together and holding her palms to the tiny fire to momentarily warm them.

"Why do you so often respond to my answers with incredulity?"

"Because I'd have lost my mind trapped in that tiny pod for a month," she admitted. "I got here in an escape pod designed for ten and I started going batty after a couple of days."

The man canted his chin to the side, paused several seconds, and asked, "How long have you been on the planet?"

"About ten days? It's hard to say—days on this planet run long. The tricorder tells me a day here is 26.91 hours long, but in Federation Standard days, I dunno, I guess I've been here about…"

"Ten solar cycles on this planet are equivalent to 11.2125 Federation Standard days."

"I guess that's about right," she shrugged.

"It was not an estimate. It is precisely correct."

She gawked at him, trying to figure out if he was trying to be rude or just had one of those matter-of-fact personalities, but before she could ponder it for more than a second, he asked, "How did you come to be on this planet?"

She blinked several times, trying to force her mind to switch gears from his attitude to his question. "Oh, uh, I was on a cruise ship. There was some kind of… I'm not sure what to call it. I overheard some of the crew refer to it as temporal waves, but the ship started shaking and so…" She was hesitant to explain the entire story about how she badgered the crew to let her into an escape pod, so she considered the fewest amount of words that would properly convey her story. "Well, I ended up in an escape pod, but before anyone else could get in, there was some kind of turbulence and the pod ejected early."

"What was the name of your ship?" he asked, sitting up slightly.

"The _Juniper Carnegie_."

She noted a flash of recognition in his eyes, but he said nothing. "Does that mean something to you?"

"On the day of the warp drive test, I overheard one of the _Bell_ 's crew tell the captain there was a vessel called the _Juniper Carnegie_ 1.42 light years away."

"You think this warp drive test had something to do with the problems on my ship?"

"It is impossible to determine with the limited, available information," he replied, grimacing as he leaned forward. "How long were you in the escape pod?"

"That's… well, that's hard to say. This might sound crazy, but the pod's computer… well, there was something wrong with the clock. I didn't notice it at first, but after a few hours, I started thinking the seconds were going by too fast. When I woke up the next day, it said twenty-three hours had passed. The longer time went on, the faster the clock went before whole days were passing in minutes, then _years_. I literally lost track of time."

The man's eyes shifted back and forth several times as Amanda's words sunk in. She couldn't tell if he was excited or deeply troubled. "What do you think that means?"

"Will you permit me access to your escape pod's computer?"

"Sure, of course," she nodded, adjusting the logs at the top of the pile. "Do you know a lot about computers or space travel?"

"Prior to my appointment as Vulcan ambassador to Earth, I was an astrophysicist at the Vulcan Science Academy."

Amanda's mouth fell open. She wasn't sure how to begin processing that information. This guy was an ambassador? _And_ a physicist? Or _astro_ physicist? She was curious about him, but her curiosity was overshadowed by a question that had dominated her thoughts since she'd first encountered him. "Do you think we can find a way to get off this planet?"

"I do not know."

"Do you think there's a _chance_ , though?"

"Yes."

"A _good_ chance?"

"The likelihood of success in returning to our respective homes is impossible to calculate at this juncture."

The fire was roaring now and he inched closer to it. He closed his eyes and in the warm glow of the flames, she could see the muscles in his neck move in a swallowing motion. He almost seemed to be meditating. She wondered how much pain he was in. She'd broken two ribs falling out of a tree in her dad's backyard once, and it had been agony to even breathe.

Amanda grabbed the spicy beef ration pack and sat down across from him, not only to avoid disturbing him, but also to stay upwind of the smell. She found herself wondering if he'd be able to make the long journey back to the pod in his current state. Maybe it would be better to leave him here with most of her supplies and come back with the med kit.

There was so much more she wanted to ask him, but she figured they'd have plenty of time in the coming days to get acquainted. She stared into the fire until her eyes started glazing over, trying to keep her hopes from running wild.

If he was an astrophysicist, surely that meant he was smart. Maybe he would figure out how to send a message. Or maybe he would know how to fly her escape pod. His pod was obviously a lost cause, but hers was still in perfect condition and designed to hold ten people. Her joy at finding another person was slowly becoming dwarfed by her desire to get him back to her pod.

The heat was starting to dry her eyes so she blinked and looked at the disheveled, mysterious Vulcan. He looked so frail, huddled under her sleeping bag. Moments later, he opened his eyes and looked up. Amanda suddenly felt like she'd been caught and glanced away.

"You know, it occurs to me that I don't even know your name," she mused.

"I am Sarek."

He closed his eyes again and sensing he wasn't interesting in continuing their conversation, she focused on eating her dinner. Maybe it wasn't the start of a beautiful friendship, but at least she wasn't alone anymore, and surely that was better than _nothing_.

* * *

**Arg-117P: Day 11**

Sarek was awoken by the sound of snoring. He opened his eyes and turned his head to see the plucky human woman lying flat on her back, mouth open and oblivious to the jarring sounds she was producing. She'd pieced together some bedding from the thermal survival suit and a fire blanket she'd found in an exterior compartment on his escape pod.

The fire had transformed into a pile of smoking coals and dew covered much of the forest floor. He could see his breath in the cold morning air and instinctively wanted to curl further down into the sleeping bag the woman, _Amanda_ , had lent him, but the stench of his body repulsed him. The smell had come on so gradually while he was trapped in the escape pod that he'd never really noticed, but now that he was free to the outside air, the stink was unmistakable.

He repressed feelings of shame. It was circumstance, not choice, that had caused him to forgo personal hygiene; therefore, it was illogical to be ashamed of his present condition, but he'd never been this unkempt, not even after spending four months in Vulcan's Forge during the Tal'oth ritual. He tried to wriggle free of the sleeping bag, but sharp pain ripped through his chest and ribs, so it took longer than it should have to rise to his feet.

He stood on trembling legs and tried to ignore the dull headache forming behind his eyes. His stomach grumbled angrily, demanding another offering of food, and then his intestines gurgled. He had grown accustomed to being hungry, but eating a full, hot meal the night before after having fasted for so long had wrought havoc on his system.

Everything hurt. Every move was met with protest by some muscle group or nerve ending. He had survived despite incredible odds, but his quest for survival was far from over. In a sense, it was only just beginning, and he was already at a significant disadvantage.

He needed to tend to his injuries and regain his strength. A month of quarter rations and low gravity had led to significant muscle atrophy, and a month of solitary conditions and poor mental stimulation had caused his mind to fray. Sarek had exceptional control over his physiology and under normal circumstances, he would have been able to sink into deep meditation and mend his broken bones and torn ligaments by redirecting his physical processes in a matter of weeks.

He walked toward the edge of the camp, trying to get a feeling for his slack muscles and aching joints. He could walk well enough, but Amanda had indicated it took her a day to travel here from her camp. He wondered what an average distance might be for a human female to travel in a day carrying a light pack on a planet such as this. Forty kilometers? A hundred?

Vulcans were physically superior to humans in nearly every way—speed, strength, endurance—and in both species, males tended to have naturally higher levels of fitness than females. Present circumstances had drastically reduced his physical advantage, and it troubled him to think she might better him, not out of any sense of chauvinism, which would be illogical, but because he disliked the idea that he might slow her down.

He wandered down a gentle slope, testing his ability to keep a steady pace. It required concentration to keep his legs from buckling at first, but the farther he walked, the more natural his gait became. Exhaustion was a constant companion, and soon he was out of breath, and the work of breathing put undue pressure on his broken ribs, but he could endure it if it meant getting to a place of safety.

His ears detected the sound of running water and he followed a zig zag path down a steeper slope until he came to a wide creek flanked by copses of shrubby trees that had grown up in defiance of the hostile conditions of the rocky soil. There was a pair large, reptilian creatures standing on two long legs, bobbing their heads under the water, but when they caught sight of the Vulcan intruder, they screamed and took to the sky.

Sarek approached the water's edge cautiously, suddenly wary of predators both large and small. The water by the stony bank was still and allowed him to catch sight of his reflection. A stranger with hollow cheeks and a thick black beard stared back at him. He evidently looked as badly as he smelled and the shame began to creep back despite his best efforts to suppress it.

Sarek had never actually made use of a water-based system of personal hygiene—sonic showers were far more efficient and less irritating to Vulcan skin—but he would have bathed right here were it not for the fact that he had no detergent, no razor, and no clean clothes.

"Hey, good morning!" The bright, feminine voice startled him, but he managed to keep his composure. "It's good to see you up and walking around."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Amanda gliding down the gentle hill from their camp, carrying two canteens and a pouch across her left side.

"I was scared half to death, waking up and seeing you gone," she said, hopping to a stop beside him. "I thought an armadillaphant might have carried you off."

She laughed to herself, but he could not discern which part of her statement was supposed to be funny. It was no secret that humans believed Vulcans lacked a sense of humor, just as it was no secret that Vulcans believed humans lacked the basic discipline to lead a logical life. He wondered if she literally meant she had nearly died upon discovering he was not in camp, or if she was speaking euphemistically.

"What is an armadillaphant?"

She threw her head back and laughed again. "Oh, they're these enormous scaly animals that kind of look like elephants with three trunks. I can't really describe them very well: you'd have to see one. They're really aggressive and tend to hang out by the water, so I try to be cautious whenever I approach the river or creeks. This place has some pretty bizarre wildlife, as I'm sure you'll find out."

She knelt down to fill the canteens and Sarek's desire to feel useful caused him to take a knee and assist her. He saw to filtering the water through the osmotic chambers in the canteens while she tried rinsing the burgundy-colored sap stains from her palms and fingers, but the color held fast.

"I wonder if this is permanent," she laughed, holding up her left hand for inspection.

He was well acquainted with the human tendency to bray in the face of humor, and though he could admit he lacked skill at identifying humor in things as humans did, she seemed to be laughing at the most mundane of concepts. What was so amusing?

"The outer layer of skin is keratinized," Sarek replied. "The stain may persist for a time, but it will fade."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "It was a small price to get you out of there, I suppose."

Sarek offered a subtle nod. "I am grateful to you."

"I would say I'm glad you showed up, but I wouldn't wish being here on anyone."

"It is preferable to starving to death in orbit."

"That's true enough, I suppose. Anyway, there are some plum bushes down here. Well, they're not plums exactly, but that's what I call them. Pickings seem to be pretty slim, but I already found a few." She reached into her pouch and pulled out three dark purple orbs approximately a third of the size of her palm. "I figure we should take food wherever we can get it. I only brought enough rations for myself for four days, so with two of us, it's going to go twice as fast."

He glanced up, meeting her eyes. She also had a habit of stating the obvious, or perhaps she believed he lacked the mathematical prowess to divide four by two. He said nothing and crouched down to help her search for the soft fruits along the water's edge.

"So, you're an ambassador?"

"Yes."

"What's that like?"

"Clarify."

"You know, what do you do?"

"You do not understand the function of an ambassador?"

"No, I _do_ , I guess I just meant… what kinds of things do you do on a daily basis? Do you like your job?"

"I meet with government officials on behalf of my planet and occasionally mediate interplanetary and intergovernmental disputes," he replied, flicking his eyes in her direction and noting she was bent over directly in front of him, a position rather flattering to her slender posterior. He immediately pulled his eyes away. "Whether I prefer the work is irrelevant. It is what my government has asked of me, and so I serve."

"You make it sound like you don't have a choice."

"My service is voluntary, but it is also logical. I was the best qualified candidate for the position, and so it was only logical to accept."

"But I thought you said you were an astrophysicist. How does that make you qualified for diplomatic work?"

"My family has been involved with the Vulcan Diplomatic Service for generations. I have an aptitude for science, but I am also familiar with interspecies relations."

"I always liked science as a kid. It's probably why I became a science teacher."

"I see."

"I'm sure teaching isn't nearly as glamorous as being an interplanetary diplomat or anything, but I like it."

"Teaching is an essential profession."

"It is, isn't it?" she grinned, tossing her head to the side. A stray tendril of dark hair fell across her eyes, and she blew it away and asked, "So, have you ever served anywhere else besides Earth?"

Sarek found himself wondering if the woman ever stopped talking. Why was she so interested in his private life? He knew humans were happy to share every shocking detail of their personal affairs—he'd once been at a formal reception where a man had told him every sordid detail of his ongoing divorce—but Amanda seemed just as happy to pry into his life as she was to divulge unsolicited information about her own. It was a completely novel form of exhaustion he wasn't prepared for.

They hiked back up to their camp and boiled the skins off half the fruits they'd collected. Under ordinary conditions, he would have found them too soft and sweet for his liking, but today he ate them readily. They scavenged the limited supplies from his mangled escape pod that Amanda could fit into her bag, packed up camp, and set off in the opposite direction of the creek. Sarek had offered to carry some of the supplies, but Amanda had refused, citing his broken collarbones, and though he disliked admitting his own limitations, she was correct.

"It's sixty-four kilometers back to my pod, but that was over some pretty grueling terrain at the end," she explained. "I got some good readings on the tricorder on my way out here though. If we can get out of this valley, it's pretty flat land on the opposite side. It's a longer route, but it's a much easier one."

"Logical," he replied, trying to conceal the fact that he was already becoming winded by climbing the hill.

He focused on his breathing and keeping pace with her, and she chatted about all manner of things. She told him of her camp and supplies, of seeing his pod come crashing through the atmosphere and her hike to see him. She was telling him about the tricorder when she suddenly fell silent and stopped in her tracks.

"Is something the matter?" Sarek asked, casually leaning against a tree to catch his breath and steady his quaking muscles.

"I found human remains on the ridge over there. They were really old. I can't believe some animal hadn't eaten them, but still…"

"Arg-117P has been known to the Federation for nearly thirty years. It has been the subject of a territorial dispute for much of that time, but it is not inconceivable that a human might have visited the surface for any number of reasons and that that person might have also died from any number of possible causes."

"I thought the same thing, but it's still creepy, you know?"

He was not precisely sure what she meant by "creepy." She scratched her head, pulled the canteen of water from her belt, and took a long drink, then offered it to him. He gently tilted the canteen back to avoid touching his lips to it and took several small slurps.

"How are you holding up?"

"I can continue at this pace," he replied, thinking he would like to continue resting for a little while longer, but he recognized they were making very poor time.

"You're sure?"

"I would not have said so if I were not."

She bit her lip in an obvious attempt to avoid smiling. Was she mocking him? "Sorry, I just realized I did it again."

"What?"

"Last night you asked why I had a hard time believing your answers. It's not that I have a hard time believing you. Right now, I just want to make sure you're not pushing yourself too hard."

"Your concern is unnecessary. I will inform you if I need to rest."

"Look, I..." She opened her mouth and formed several silent syllables before grinning and saying, "Ok."

They continued on for another two hours, stopping several times to rest, drink water, and get their bearings on the tricorder. Amanda allowed Sarek to carry the device and he quickly familiarized himself with all of its features and applications. It proved a very useful tool.

They stopped for a midday meal, eating most of the rest of the fruit and splitting a small package of dried fruits and nuts, and he demonstrated several features of the tricorder she'd been unfamiliar with, illustrating that it was a far more useful tool than she'd realized. He was showing her how to narrow the parameters of the primary scanner when the tricorder emitted three short beeps.

"What was that?" she asked, leaning over to see what he was looking at.

Sarek flipped through the multiple windows and discovered the tricorder was detecting a large duranium mass 0.73 kilometers away, bearing S13°E, according to true north.

"Do you think it's another pod?" Amanda asked, jumping to her feet and clasping her hands over her mouth.

"It is not a natural object," Sarek replied. "Arg-117P has no traces of duranium or any natural resource of value to the Federation."

"What about life signs? That was how I knew you were here and alive before I saw you. It even told me specifically it was detecting a Vulcan life sign."

Sarek toggled to the correct program and found nothing. They played with the settings for ten minutes, but still were unable to detect another living, recognizable sentient species.

"Well, we should check it out, at least," she said, stuffing the used food packaging into her bag and slinging it over her shoulders.

"Yes," Sarek agreed.

They moved as quickly through the forest as he could manage, and less than ten minutes later, found the source of the unexpected duranium reading. It was quite large and partially covered in vining plants. It appeared to have been here for centuries, and though the lettering on the side was greatly faded with age, it was unmistakable.

It read USS _Bell_ NCC-1405B. It was Lieutenant Hornsby's shuttle.


	7. Spacetime in a Bottle

**Arg-117P: Day 12**

"The USS _Bell_?" Amanda asked, adjusting the weight of the rucksack on her back. "Wasn't that the ship you said you were from?"

Sarek gazed at the tall letters scrawled on the side of the ship and said nothing.

"Sarek?"

"Yes," he replied. "I was aboard the USS _Bell_."

"So… what does this mean?" Amanda asked, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. "I mean, this ship looks like it's been here for _decades_."

Sarek took several steps toward the pod, scanning the exterior with the tricorder. His face gave no clue about what he was thinking or feeling, which made Amanda feel like she was going to lose her mind waiting for him to say something. He slid his hand along the door, slowly jerked his arms upward to pull a release, and a hatch jerked open with an angry squeal of metal on metal. He disappeared inside the vessel without saying a word.

" _Sarek_?" Amanda whined, following him inside. "Please tell me you know what's going on here."

"I do not," he said, not bothering to look at her.

"You said you were in orbit for a month. This ship _has_ to have been here longer than that. _Years_ , at least."

"Yes."

"How long has it been here, do you think?"

"I do not know."

"Well, _guess_."

"There is no logic in guessing," he replied, easing himself into a seat near what looked like the pilot's station. From the hole on the floor, Amanda got the impression there had been another chair next to the one he was currently sitting in.

"Can you take a scan with the tricorder?" she asked. "Like, won't it tell you about radioactive decay or something? It could at least give us an estimate."

"Radiometric dating is an imprecise method even when the parent nuclide has a sufficiently long half-life. Duranium cannot be accurately measured through such techniques."

"But if this shuttle and your pod escaped from the _Bell_ at around the same time, how could this shuttle have been here for years while you only showed up several nights ago?"

"I have several theories, but they are only theories. I would like to investigate further."

Amanda sighed and looked around, wishing her eyes would adjust to the dim light inside the small craft. From what she could discern, it looked like it had been converted into a living space. A rough, log table sat against the wall opposite the hatch and a chair identical to the one Sarek was sitting in sat next to it.

The rear of the shuttle narrowed into a short hall with space for two bunks on either side. The bed of the upper right bunk was neatly made and the bunk beneath it had been made into a place for firewood storage. The other set of bunks had been removed and converted into what looked like a kitchen area for a tiny deuterium hot-plate, a basin for washing, and stacks of containers that were marked things like "wheatgrass" and "pomegranates."

She flipped the lid off the top container and winced. The three pieces of fruit inside looked to be the same type of plum-like fruits she and Sarek had eaten for lunch, only these had long-ago mummified into hard, shriveled nuggets. She wandered toward the rear of the cabin where there appeared to be several storage closets, but the light from the hatch didn't reach all the way back to this remote area, and she was hesitant to go poking around in the dark.

She found the courage to inch forward, and just as she reached out and touched the first closet door, a loud whine rippled through the shuttle and the lights flickered on. Amanda screamed a short note before clasping her hand over her mouth.

"What is the matter?" Sarek asked, his voice placid and almost bored, as if he had no idea the lights had just come on.

"The _lights_ \- I just- what happened? How did they-"

"The auxiliary power supply remains intact and appears to be fueled by a deuterium cell," Sarek replied.

Amanda clutched her hand to her chest and nodded. She was jumpy— _too_ jumpy, probably. This whole thing was a giant, eerie mystery and every instinct was begging her to get away from this place. Who had lived here? Where had they gone? She closed her eyes and thought of the human remains she'd found on the ridge and tasted bile in the back of her throat.

Amanda waited for her heart to slow down and just as she summoned the courage to check out the contents of the aft storage closets, a speaker crackled from Sarek's direction.

" _This is uh- this is the personal log of Starfleet Lieutenant Carl Hornsby, USS Bell. The stardate is… I don't really know._ _I've been here for two days, I think so I guess that makes it 2229.05. The shuttle computer is telling me it's stardate 4247.91…_ "

Amanda ventured toward the front of the cabin and saw Sarek sitting in front of a computer screen featuring the image of a handsome human man with black hair and a thick five o'clock shadow. A slight chill coursed through her as she tried to focus on what he was saying.

_"… I was performing a scheduled test of the Peregrine X7, a new warp drive technology the eggheads at Starfleet cooked up. Needless to say, something went wrong. Just before I engaged the drive, the antimatter readings started spiking and I was on the verge of losing containment. I attempted a rapid shutdown of the drive, but it overloaded the warp coils and I just barely managed to make it to the surface in one piece._

_The warp engine is fried, the impulse engines are too. Um, I've tried to make contact with the ship, but no one will answer my transmissions. Maybe they're having problems with communications, I don't know. I've activated my emergency distress beacons and will continue trying to reach the Bell."_

The entry cut off. Amanda gasped, "Was that it?"

"There are 1,458 more log entries," Sarek replied. "This one was the first."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Play the next one."

"The entries range in duration from twenty-two seconds to 1.4 hours, with an average of nine minutes per entry," Sarek explained. "Were we to listen to all of them without pause, it would take 10.89 days to hear the entire record."

"What does the last entry say?"

Sarek glanced at her and then back to the computer screen, scrolled down a long list of entries, and swiped his finger over the last in the list. The face of a heavily bearded, wiry man with long hair pulled into a ponytail appeared. He was swaddled in a blanket and blinking slowly through heavy-lidded eyes.

" _It's so cold. It's stardate… I dunno, who-cares-anymore? I never thought I was going to make it another winter in this place, even if I wanted to. No one's coming for me. No one was ever coming. I wonder if Belinda found someone else. It's weird to think of Sammy calling someone else 'daddy,' but I bet he's too grown up to call anyone 'daddy' these days. I think he's about eight now_. _What kind of father doesn't even know how old his son is_?"

The man started to cry, and Amanda strained against her vast reserves of empathy to keep from crying too. Eventually, he composed himself enough to continue, and what he said next broke her heart.

" _There's only so much hope a person can have. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't think I can. This storm has been going on for the past six days and I've only got about three days of food left. If the snows get much higher, I won't be able to access the top hatch. I'm tired. I'm starving. I'm cold. I haven't seen the temperature rise above -20_ _ºC_ _for days now. I heard once that freezing to death is supposed to be pretty peaceful. You just, go to sleep. If_ _anyone ever finds this, please tell my son I love him. Tell Belinda I love her and I understand if she moved on. I love them so much and I'm so sorry for all the birthdays and anniversaries and school plays and date nights I missed. I just want them to know I tried. I guess this is goodbye._ "

The man's image disappeared into a dark blue background emblazoned with the Federation seal. It took Amanda several seconds to realize she was holding her breath. She wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded like Carl Hornsby had committed suicide by wandering out into a vicious winter storm.

"So wait, Carl Hornsby believed at least four years have passed since 2229?"

"As of his last log entry, yes," Sarek replied.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I believe there are two possible explanations."

"Are you going to fill me in or do I have to guess?"

"Either we are experiencing time dilation or we have entered into another dimension for which time is not constant."

Amanda's mouth fell open. " _What_?"

"I would like to perform some calculations to get a better understanding of the situation. I have the logs from my escape pod, and when combined with the logs from Lieutenant Hornsby's shuttle, I believe it should be possible to reconstruct the events since the warp drive malfunction."

Sarek returned to the top of the log entries and began playing them in sequential order. Amanda tried to wrap her mind around the idea of time dilation and alternate universes. As far as she was concerned, those were the products of science fiction, not her life. She watched her Vulcan companion for several minutes as he toggled back and forth between different computer screens covered in star charts and globs of nonsensical equations, his posture rigid from the pain of his broken body. Sarek wasn't the best social companion, but she felt grateful to have been stranded with someone who could sort it all out and it gave her hope, thinking he might succeed where Hornsby had failed.

They spent the next little while listening to Lieutenant Hornsby's account of his first few months on Arg-117P and eventually, Amanda busied herself exploring the rest of the shuttle's interior. On the ceiling above his bed, she found lines and slashes written in charcoal on the smooth metal where it seemed like he'd been trying to keep track of the days, but there were angry smears interrupting the middle of the middle of his tabulations. She got the sense he'd tried to wipe it away in a moment of frustration.

Through it all, the image of Hornsby on the pilot's computer screen droned on, detailing the immediate days following his crash landing. He'd kept meticulous records about his attempts to make contact with the USS _Bell_ , Starfleet headquarters, and eventually _anyone_ , but to no avail. He'd tried several ways to get the shuttle flying again, including repairing the impulse engine and fixing the microfractures in the hull, but it was apparent he was a pilot and navigator, not an engineer.

There were moments of humor interspersed among the overt loneliness and desperation, which gave Amanda the impression that Carl Hornsby was the sort of person she would have liked to have known. He told corny jokes and laughed at himself, and he talked a lot about his partner Belinda and their three-year-old son, Sammy. It was the kind of narrative that made her want to laugh one minute and cry the next, but overall, it mostly made her afraid that she and Sarek were going to end up just like him—lost and forgotten on this empty planet while life went on without them.

Amanda made her way to the back of the cabin and despite her trepidation of what might come tumbling out of the storage closets—the idea that she might find Carl Hornsby's corpse tucked away somewhere was a very real concern—she managed to summon the courage to go through them. Thankfully, all she found was more firewood, some well-worn clothes and tools, and several storage trunks.

She dragged the containers out of the closet and prepared herself for the task of sorting through them all, but what she discovered in the very first trunk made her smile. Maybe things were looking up after all.

* * *

Sarek analyzed the data before him and did his best to quell his frustration at being unable to devise a mathematical model to explain precisely what had happened to spacetime in this sector. Conceptually, it was simple to understand—the misfire of the Peregrine X7 warp drive had ripped a hole in the fabric of space, resulting in gravimetric shear and non-linear time dilation. Unfortunately, he lacked enough data to calculate how much time had passed in this region of space relative to the rest of the galaxy.

The computer's clocks were unreliable without a known reference. The shuttle's clock currently listed the stardate as 21457.92, but it was clear from the state of the shuttle that twenty millennia had not passed. He had gotten an estimate from the decay of the dilithium residue in the antimatter chamber, and if the computer was to be believed, it had only been approximately 140 years since the shuttle had crash-landed on this planet. It wasn't much information to go on, but it was all he had.

He was in the midst of reviewing his second model for unforeseen variables when he saw Amanda approaching his position from the corner of his eye. His eyes flicked in her direction and discovered a triumphant look on her face. She held out a wand-like instrument in her left hand and declared, "Hey, I found a bone knitter!"

He studied the object and nodded, thinking of the terrible pain in the upper half of his body that he'd fought so hard to ignore for the past two days. Suppressing the physical sensations of his injuries was mentally taxing, and he reasoned he might have a clearer mind if he could free himself of the burden of coping with the pain. There was also nothing to be gained by forgoing medical treatment in favor of continuing his efforts to discover what had happened when Lieutenant Hornsby had activated the Peregrine X7—according to his crude understanding of the situation, he had time in excess.

"I thought you'd be happy?" Amanda continued. "Now you don't have to wait until we get back to my pod to fix your broken ribs and collarbones."

He glanced at the bone-knitter in her hands and replied, "I appreciate your consideration."

She offered a thin-lipped smile and stepped forward. "Do you need help taking off your vest and shirt?"

He forced down a swell of embarrassment as he realized she intended to treat him instead of allowing him to treat himself. He explained, "I am capable of operating the bone knitter."

Her eyes narrowed. "You can barely lift your arms. You could barely lift the tricorder above your waist earlier. How do you suppose you'll be able to mend your own collarbones?"

Sarek swallowed another trickle of shame. His body was broken and filthy and this woman was encouraging him to expose himself to her. Yet she spoke truly—lifting his arms above his head to maneuver the bone knitter would cause excruciating pain. He could probably manage, but it would go much more quickly if he allowed her to do it.

"Look, I know this is a bit awkward," she finally said. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I also don't want you to think I'm judging you. I'm not asking you to strip naked or anything."

He met her eyes and studied them for a few moments, but eventually he looked away and tried to shrug off his outer vest. Amanda approached from behind, grabbing the garment by the back of the collar and easing it down over his elbows. He fumbled with the large buttons on the front of his shirt and managed to get all but the two nearest his throat, which he grudgingly allowed Amanda to undo.

When she gently peeled it back and off his shoulders, a thick layer of stink came with it, but she said nothing as she draped the dirty, crumpled shirt over the back of the chair. Last was his undershirt, which they initially tried to ease over his head before Amanda suggested simply cutting it off.

She found a knife in the kitchen and got to work, choosing to cut it from the back rather than the front. It was a strangely intimate thing to have a woman cut his shirt off, and twice her fingertips brushed his bare flesh, sending nervous impulses down his spine. She hissed several times, and when the last threads were cut and his shirt hung loosely from his chest, he heard her utter a low gasp.

The smell was stronger now than it had been. Perhaps it might have been wiser to perform this activity outside where the air circulated more readily. "I apologize for my-"

"Don't apologize," she interrupted. "If anything, _I'm_ sorry. I didn't realize how bad you were hurt."

Sarek leaned forward and allowed the shirt to fall to the floor, and upon seeing the damage to his body for the first time, fought to repress his shock. His torso was mottled with deep brown and green bruises and lumps. A deep green rash wound around the left side of his body, and he wondered if it was a skin infection from poor hygiene or something more serious.

"I'm going to use the bone knitter now, ok?"

"Have you used a bone knitter before?" he asked, easing himself upright and looking straight ahead.

"No, but I've had them used on me. I don't think there's much to it, from what I understand. It makes repairs where they're needed without harming healthy tissue."

He nodded and braced himself. She was correct—virtually all modern bone knitters could detect fractures and stimulate osteoclasts to remove the damaged bone and osteoblasts to generate new bone tissue without overgrowing the bone mass. It did not take any expertise to use one, but he still disliked the idea of a strange woman using one on him.

A soft hum echoed through the cabin and he braced himself. He'd sustained fractures during martial arts training in his youth, and so he was well-acquainted with the sensation generated by a bone knitter. It could not be described as _painful_ , but neither was it comfortable. A sudden, warm vibration struck his upper shoulder and a dull ache quickly established itself under his shoulder blade.

She started on the right side of his back and worked her way downward, then did the left. He closed his eyes and walled his mind off from the growing discomfort. It took nearly twenty minutes for her to scan the entirety of his back, and when she was finished, he was left with deep aches radiating out from the newly repaired breaks.

Amanda moved around to his front, resting her eyes on the irregular bulges protruding from his collarbones. "Do you want to take a minute to catch your breath? I know this doesn't feel all that great."

Rather than draw out this experience longer than was necessary, he shook his head and replied, "Please continue."

She took a deep breath and lifted her arms to his right collarbone, using her left hand to steady the right. He purposefully avoided her gaze, but after nearly a minute, he found himself glancing down at his chest to watch her progress. Unfortunately, he discovered she had chosen that exact moment to look up at him. Their eyes locked for a brief instant but flicked away again in a smooth motion, like the positive poles of two magnets brought into proximity of each other.

She moved from his collarbone to his ribs, and when he eventually convinced himself to look in her general direction again, he noticed her cheeks had adopted a reddish coloration. Fifteen minutes later, she powered the bone knitter off and nearly raced across the cabin to return it to its case. There was no need to exchange words.

Sarek hurt nearly as much as he had before, but the sharp pains he'd experienced when he breathed too deeply or raised his arms too high had been replaced by a more constant, pronounced throbbing. He would ache for several days as his nerve endings reconciled the sudden repair of so much bone tissue, but it was a small price to pay for a greatly increased range of motion.

"I guess this was Lieutenant Hornsby's," Amanda said, holding out black shirt with short sleeves. She spoke quickly and was clearly avoiding looking him in the eye a second time. "The fabric's a little thin, but it smells clean."

"Thank you." He reached out his hands to accept her offering, moving slowly and deliberately to try and get a feel for his recently healed bones. Amanda's movements were much quicker and sloppier, and the end result was that they ended up dropping the shirt between them through their poorly coordinated hand-off.

They simultaneously stooped to collect it from the floor, and in an even more awkward exchange, her hand landed directly on the back of his. She gasped and he jerked his hand away and tried to stand, but he moved too quickly and his balance faltered. Amanda also tried to stand, but in doing so, slammed her forehead directly into his temple. Stars spun across his field of vision as he stumbled to a standing position.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry," she groaned, clutching her forehead. "I don't know that that could have been much worse."

"It could have been," Sarek replied, wincing and avoiding the desire to massage his throbbing temple.

"Yeah, I guess I could have stabbed you," she laughed, uttering a soft snort at the end.

Sarek cocked his head. "Why would you stab me?"

"Uh, I wouldn't? It was a joke."

"I am not in the habit of making jokes."

"Yeah, no, I guess not," she said, her voice trailing into a whisper. She let go of her head and studied her hand. Sarek was consciously trying to deny the lingering tickle of pleasure that the touch of her hand on his had provoked.

"I should return to my calculations."

"Uh, yeah, ok. Have you made any progress?"

"Very little."

Amanda slumped down in the chair near the wooden table while Sarek returned to revising his model, a task which was made difficult but a sudden tremor that had developed in his hands. He coped with it as best he could, hypothesizing it might be a temporary side effect of the bone knitter.

After about ten minutes, Amanda asked, "So, anything yet?"

Sarek repressed a hint of annoyance. "Perhaps you could exercise some utility and establish a camp for the night."

He was met with silence. When he glanced over his shoulder to ascertain how she intended to proceed, he noticed her mouth was hanging open. Perhaps she required additional reasons to accept the logic of his request. "I believe it will be dark in a matter of hours, and we are low on food."

She frowned, crossed her arms, and gave a single nod. "Yeah, whatever. Sorry to bother you."

She left the shuttle, but the shaking in his hands remained. He worked for the next ninety minutes, serenaded by the sounds of his human companion erecting a camp. After several more revisions to his work, a pattern began to emerge, and though he could not devise a more precise model with the data at his disposal, it was now clear enough what had happened. He was attempting to suppress his emotions about the stark reality of the situation when Amanda's face appeared in the hatch opening.

"I found a few more fruits and I figured we could share one of the rations for dinner."

"Yes, thank you." He joined her around a roaring campfire and gazed up at the stars forming in the dusky twilight.

They split two overripe fruits and the chicken and rice meal. Chicken was a novel experience for Sarek. Federation regulations prohibited the slaughtering of animals for consumption, but humans had held fast to their barbaric ways and continued to synthesize food based on animal flesh. It was illogical to kill without reason, and though the strings of meat wedged between his teeth had been grown in a lab and had never technically been alive, it was also illogical to create food based on sources which were alive. Yet Sarek also recognized the illogic in denying his weakened body nourishment simply because the production of such a meal was illogical.

"Are you ok?"

Sarek raised his head and looked at Amanda. "Clarify."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded in his direction. "Your hands are shaking. Do you need more food?"

That was an explanation he hadn't thought of. Perhaps his shaking hands were the result of malnutrition. He concentrated on holding his spoon steady and after achieving a generally acceptable result, replied, "No, thank you."

She shrugged and went back to sucking the flesh from one of the sweet fruits. "How long do you think we'll stay here? I only ask because it's pretty slim pickings for food around here."

"We can leave in the morning. I was able to transfer my work and Lieutenant Hornsby's logs to an external drive."

Their eyes met and he sensed she was about to speak, but she frowned and went back to nibbling bits of fruit from the round, black pit. Now that he understood the situation, there was no logic in withholding what he knew from her.

"It appears that when the Peregrine X7 malfunctioned, the energy generated was sufficient to create small tears in the fabric of spacetime, creating severe gravitational shear which resulted in a temporal gravitational well."

Amanda's mouth drifted open. "Huh?"

"We have become trapped in a temporal gravitational well."

She closed her mouth and gave a small shake of her head. " _What_?"

"It is a simple concept."

"Maybe to an astrophysicist."

"I had thought you were a professor of science."

"I teach sixth-graders about volcanoes and dinosaurs and ecosystems. I don't spend a lot of time covering the intricate mysteries of the universe."

Sarek blinked. He could not recall precisely when he'd learned about concepts related to gravitational potential, but it had been during secondary school. Perhaps Terran curriculum had not covered such material, or perhaps she had been a very poor student.

"You don't have to stare at me like I'm stupid," she added, her tone flat and hostile.

"I shall attempt to explain more simply. Do you understand the mechanics of warp travel?"

Amanda closed her eyes and sighed. "No, not really."

"Though the methods by which warp engines function may vary, they all operate on the same principle—they annihilate matter and antimatter to generate sufficient energy to fold the fabric of spacetime around the ship, which allows for faster-than-light travel."

Her face softened and pulled her knees up around her chest. "Ok, that's simple enough."

"When the Peregrine X7 was activated, the antimatter chamber lost containment. When antimatter collides with matter, it generates enormous energy and so it must be done in a controlled way. In this case, it was not, and it damaged the fabric of spacetime."

"Ok, so, what does that mean for us?"

"In most instances, the tear would correct itself and such an event would only send a ripple through space, much like ripples radiate from a body of water that has been disturbed. But because the rift happened between two masses, this planet and the _Bell_ , both bodies sank into the hole that was created, sending out massive, non-uniform waves."

"So instead of throwing a single small rock into a pond, it's more like throwing two huge boulders in?"

"A crude analogy, but essentially, yes."

"So… _what_? We're stuck at the bottom of the pond? We're getting tossed around on the waves?"

"This is where the analogy no longer fits. Both the _Bell_ and the planet are sinking into the fabric of spacetime, but my calculations show it is slowing."

"So…?"

Sarek had thought there was only one obvious conclusion that could be drawn from such information, but it was apparent she still did not understand.

"Time on this planet and on the _Bell_ is passing by much more quickly than it is in other parts of the galaxy. This region of space has also been affected, which explains why the computers of both of our escape pods and Lieutenant Hornsby's shuttle believe centuries have passed. It would explain why the relative time on your escape pod's clock began to accelerate as you approached the planet—the closer one is to Arg-117P, the faster time appears to move relative to an outside reference."

Amanda made a face and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "But we both agree it's been about a month since the accident, right? At least, as far as _we_ understand time?"

"Correct."

"So what you're saying is, centuries have passed by on this planet while only a month has passed by…" She waved her hand around in a circular motion. "Out there? Like, to my mom on Earth, it's only been a month since I went missing?"

"Not precisely."

She uttered a long sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then I really have no idea what you're explaining to me."

"You clearly grasp the concept, but you are wrong in your belief that someone on Earth would perceive a full month has passed. The ripples created by the initial tear in the fabric of spacetime also temporarily distorted time in this region of space. It is difficult to calculate how far it extends, but my model suggests it dissipates to a difference of mere nanoseconds at a radius of 3.4 lightyears."

Amanda buried her face in her arms and mumbled, "This is hurting my brain."

"While you were traveling to this planet, time was passing by at an average rate of approximately 9.871 days per hour. It passed by slightly faster at a rate of 10.12 days per hour for me while I was in orbit of this planet. That is, what felt like approximately days to us would have only been one hour to an observer on Earth. Now that we are on the planet and further into the gravitational well, a day here is currently less than a second relative to Earth."

Her head shot up and her face contorted into a series of odd expressions before she said, "So, according to anyone further away than a couple of light years, we've only been missing for like, _three_ hours?"

Sarek nodded. "Correct."

"And how long has Hornsby's shuttle been down here? I mean, relative to time on this planet?"

"142.2 years."

"So, what felt like a month to us out in space felt like three hours to someone on Earth, but felt like 142 _years_ to Carl Hornsby?"

"Yes."

"So as far as anyone on Earth is concerned, we've only been gone for three hours?"

Sarek wondered why she kept repeating the plainest facts of the matter. It seemed simple enough to understand. "Yes."

"But… if we've only been gone for three hours, I mean, as far as _they_ can tell, they probably don't even know anything is wrong yet. No one is looking for us."

"Yes, it would be very unlikely anyone would have mounted search and rescue operations after such a short period of time had transpired. Even if they had, it would take days to organize the resources and reach this planet."

Amanda clenched her jaw and turned her attention to the dancing flames of the fire. "Are we going to die here like Hornsby? Trying to scrape together an existence for years while no one even knows we're missing?"

"There is evidence to show the gravitational wells are correcting themselves," Sarek replied. "You said you had been on the planet for approximately ten days, and I observed your emergency landing from orbit. A similar amount of time passed relative to my own position. Even after accounting for my decaying orbit, it is clear that time on the planet and time in this immediate region of space is stabilizing."

Her face lit up and she turned to him, gently gripping his forearm. "That's good then, right? Time will fix itself and someone will eventually come along and rescue us?"

"Perhaps they might," Sarek replied, shuddering at her unsolicited and inappropriate touch. "Time may be stabilizing, but my model still suggests we will be dead long before they arrive."


	8. Estimation

**Arg-117P: Day 12**

Amanda's chest started to feel very tight and the world started to spin. She clutched her knees, trying to catch her breath but feeling too overcome by violent sensations of fear and despair to remember how to breathe. "We're going to die here."

"Not necessarily."

Amanda glared at him. "You just said no one is going to come and rescue us! Do you have some plan to live forever?"

He gave her an almost smug look. "Perhaps we are not in need of rescue. You indicated you arrived here in an escape pod equipped for ten people from 1.42 light years away in a matter of weeks. That is only possible if your escape pod is capable of traveling at warp speeds."

Amanda suddenly felt embarrassed, not only for yelling at him, but also for not seeing the obvious solution. If no one would come to take them home, the next option would be to get home on their own. "Do you know how to fly an escape pod?"

"No," he admitted. "But I am capable of learning, particularly if it is the only feasible means of escaping this planet."

Amanda turned to face him, resting her left temple on her knee. "So you really think there's a chance?"

He canted his head in her direction. "There is currently no reason for me to believe there is not."

There was so much more she wanted to discuss with him—how long would it take, how he planned to get it done, how could she help him—but she was afraid to inundate him with questions, especially ones she was pretty sure he didn't have answers to. She took a deep breath and sensed he was staring at her. She adjusted her eyes slightly upward and made eye contact with him.

One second passed by, then another and another until they were engaged in what could only be described as a staring contest. She wanted to look away or smile passively to break the tension, but she found herself mesmerized by the flicker of the flames in his dark eyes. What was he thinking about?

It was Sarek who conceded, tearing his face away from hers to gaze straight ahead into the campfire. Amanda finally blinked, and when she did, she noticed his hands were shaking once again.

They sat quietly until the flames died down into coals, stamped them out without a word, and moved into the shelter of the shuttle for the night. Amanda threw her rucksack in the pilot's seat and started preparing a bed on the floor, but she stopped when she realized Sarek was watching her.

"Something wrong?"

"There is a bed."

She didn't need a mirror to know a red flush was probably streaking across her face. "Um, yes, I know. I thought you might want it because you know, I'm sure you're still pretty sore from the broken bones."

"I am willing to sleep on the floor."

Amanda crossed her arms and offered an expression between a smile and a scowl. Did he really prefer the shuttle floor to a bunk with a mattress, or was this some kind of old-fashioned chivalry? "I obviously don't mind sleeping on the floor either. So why don't you take the bed?"

"I am too large to fit comfortably in it, but I believe it may be adequate for you."

Amanda stood on her toes to look over his shoulder. It _was_ a pretty small bed. To make matters worse, the head and foot were flanked by two walls, making it more of a sleeping compartment than a bunk bed, so instead of hanging his feet off the end, he'd be forced to curl up in a semi-fetal position.

She didn't feel like arguing, so she grabbed her bag and headed for the rear of the shuttle. She swung herself up onto the top bunk, using some of the stacked logs beneath it as a set of makeshift stairs. It was just long enough for her to lie flat on her back with her legs fully straightened, but shortly after assuming a sleeping position, she decided she wasn't even remotely tired.

She stole several glances toward the front of the cabin. Sarek was partially obscured by the bunk's partition, but she could see the lower half of his body. Like her, he apparently also preferred to sleep on his back. She closed her eyes and tried to drift off, but the longer she laid that way, the more alert she felt.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, I didn't know if you were awake."

"I am."

Amanda bit her lip. She wanted to talk or do _anything_ , really, other than sit in the dark stewing on her thoughts, but talking to him was so damn awkward.

She sighed and finally said, "Good night, Sarek."

"Good night, Amanda."

She stared idly at the ceiling, noticing the charcoal marks Hornsby had made, maybe as a way to mark the days or months. A smeared handprint cut through the neat formation of lines, urging her to absentmindedly touch her fingertips to it and retrace the motion. Hornsby had lived here 142 years ago, or a month ago, or even three hours ago, depending on how she decided to look at it.

She tried wrapping her mind around the strangeness of their situation. Sarek had said what had felt like a month to them had felt like 142 years for the young Starfleet officer, but had seemed only like three hours to people on Earth.

142 years was so long ago. 142 years ago, Earth had still been recovering from the devastation of World War III's nuclear weapons. Mars hadn't even been colonized.

But three hours was nothing at all. Three hours ago, she'd been building a campfire and trying to figure out how best to stretch their limited food supplies. According to everyone she knew and loved on Earth, she'd only been missing since dinner, if they even knew she was missing at all.

Somehow, she doubted it. If the _Juniper Carnegie_ had been destroyed, it would take some time for people to verify it was missing, at least a couple of hours, then it would take more time still for the gears of bureaucracy to turn. Public relations officers would be notified, then cruise line clerks would skim passenger manifests and reach out to the emergency contacts each of the passengers had listed. It could take days, or even weeks, for all of that to happen, and if three hours on Earth had felt like 142 years to Lieutenant Hornsby on Arg-117P, how much time would pass for her while she waited for her mother to be notified she was even missing?

She scowled. Sarek could probably calculate it in his head in less than a second. She thought of Hornsby's logs and how he'd fretted over his son growing up without him and his wife moving on, but in all reality, Hornsby's family probably didn't even know he was missing yet.

The tightness returned to her chest and she tried to turn her mind to other things, but Sarek's words kept echoing in her head— _we will be long dead before they arrive._ She tried to breathe, but it felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest. She sat up, nearly bumping her head on the low ceiling and fought the urge to cry. What if she lived the rest of her life and died of old age before her family even got the call that she was missing?

She buried her face in her hands and gave into feeling sorry for herself. What if this was it, for the rest of her life? She spent the next several minutes trying to keep the panic at bay. Sarek had said there was still hope, and there _was_.

What if they spent the next several weeks trying to get the escape pod running and made it back to Earth before her family even knew she was gone? That would be one hell of a funny story. She almost laughed, imagining her mother asking how the cruise had been, and then she would tell her about spending several months trapped on a planet with a Vulcan ambassador and wait for her mother to think it was a joke.

She had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from erupting into giggles. She held her breath, momentarily enjoying the feel of her own heartbeat, and that was when she noticed the scratching sound coming from the door.

"Sarek?

"Quiet." His single word response wasn't stern or mean, but it had a strange sense of urgency to it.

Amanda's ears strained against the silence and now the only thing she could hear was the blood pounding in her head. She waited, then the scratching resumed. Something was trying to get in, and it sounded _big_.

It was quiet for a minute, prompting Amanda to ask, "What do you think that was?"

"I had thought you might have a theory. Did you not say the local wildlife was, to use your term,  _bizarre_?"

"The only thing that big I've encountered was an armadillaphant, and they don't have claws."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the scratching returned, this time at the rear of the shuttle.

" _What if it gets in_?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"The hull of the shuttle is duranium. I believe we are quite safe."

Amanda jumped out of bed. The cabin lights illuminated automatically from the motion, making her freeze. She slowly pointed to the glass windows, trying to see anything moving in the forest, but the bright interior against the dark beyond turned the windows into mirrors. "What about those?"

"Reinforced aluminum glass, designed to withstand cosmic debris."

It was annoying, how calm he was. It was even more annoying that he seemed to know everything. Amanda inched toward the windows, feeling anxious enough to jump out of her skin.

She was used to camping in the woods. The howling of wolves or coyotes in the distance had frightened her as a child, but she'd eventually found the beauty in it, once her father had finally managed to convince her that the average wild dog wasn't looking to make a meal out of her. She couldn't be sure the same was true for whatever was lurking outside the shuttle.

Sarek was staring at her again, but the subtle, dull look in his eyes suggested he was annoyed with her apprehension. She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I'll go back to bed and stop bothering you."

"Thank you."

She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. She hadn't intended him to hear it, but since he _had_ , "thank you" seemed like a snarky way to respond. She lifted herself onto the bunk and made a second attempt to sleep.

She tossed and turned until the wee hours of dawn, cycling through feelings of despair, hope, and sadness. She dozed in and out a few times, just barely edging into dreams featuring Hornsby asking why they hadn't come to help him and her family laughing at the news that she was gone.

She was in the midst of a nightmare about being chased down by fanged armadillaphants ridden by Hornsby and the dead crewman of the _Juniper Carnegie_ , with Sarek riding along behind them, dispassionately telling her there was nothing to be afraid of when her eyes snapped open. Daylight was streaming through the cabin windows and she realized it must be morning. She turned her head to see if Sarek was still asleep, and was startled to find him sitting on the floor by the pilot's chair, legs crossed underneath him and his hands placed on his knees.

Most jarring of all, his eyes were wide open, giving her the impression that he was watching her and praying.

She sat up and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Oh, uh, _hi_."

His eyes narrowed and his head shifted in her direction. "Hello." He rose to his feet in a smooth motion, using only his legs to lift himself.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, you know, if you were praying."

"I was meditating."

"Well, don't let me bother you," Amanda muttered, sliding her feet over the side of the bed and feeling eager to empty her overfull bladder.

"It is no matter. I was nearly done."

She gave him a thin-lipped smile and slid along the wall until she reached the door. She wandered outside to find the morning was already well underway. It was warm, and the sunlight streaming through the canopy felt nice on her skin.

She glanced down and balked. The ground around the shuttle was disturbed, as though something had attempted to dig underneath it. There were tracks visible in the loose soil that looked like they could have been made by a three-toed bear. She squatted down, poking her fingers into the deep holes where the animal's claws had been.

"You do not know what animal made these tracks?"

She shook her head. "No." She stood up and walked toward the trees.

"How much time do you require to break camp?" Sarek asked, following her.

"It's not really much of a camp," she called over her shoulder, wishing he would leave her alone.

"No," he agreed. "I have everything I require. I have annotated the shuttle's location on the tricorder, should we need to return."

"That's nice," Amanda replied, stopping in her tracks and wincing.

"Is something the matter?"

Amanda grimaced. "I have to pee. Can you give me some privacy?"

Sarek recoiled slightly and shifted his gaze toward the ground. Without another word, he turned on his heel and returned to the shuttle. She waited until he closed the door behind himself to undo her pants. How was she supposed to live with this guy long-term?

It took all of ten minutes to pack up their things and set out toward her escape pod. Her stomach rumbled angrily, but with so little food left, they both agreed to forage what they could along the way and save the last remaining ration for dinner.

Sarek moved a lot faster, now that he wasn't limping along with broken ribs and collarbones. He still seemed to tire easily, but she walked behind him to let him set the pace. He was still wearing Lieutenant Hornsby's thin, black undershirt, and it clung to his body in such a way that she could easily observe the movement of his muscles as he walked.

She had seen him without his shirt yesterday, but his body had been so broken and bruised she hadn't give much consideration to anything besides his injuries. He was tall and built with lean muscle and it was evident he'd been quite fit and healthy before his recent starving stint in an escape pod.

But it wasn't just the shape of his body that intrigued her, it was the way he used it. He moved with such purpose and grace she wondered if he was also an athlete, or maybe he enjoyed dancing on the weekends. The more she studied him, the more convinced she became he was the kind of person who probably biked to work and lived on a diet of granola and dark leafy greens. Amanda enjoyed staying active and did her best to be healthy, but she'd also never said no to a piece of chocolate cake.

Her stomach gurgled at the thought of cake. She pulled the canteen off her belt and took a swig of water to try and quiet hunger pains. "Thirsty?"

Sarek stopped and turned around. "No, thank you."

She started to return the canteen to its holder on her belt but hesitated. "Have you had anything to drink today?"

"I do not have the same excessive requirements for water as you do."

"Are you trying to prove something?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Clarify."

She screwed the cap back on the canteen and replied, "There's no point in pushing yourself if you don't need to. We're low on food, but we can easily get more water."

"I am Vulcan. My ancestors evolved on an arid planet and as a result, I utilize less water as part of my metabolism than a human would."

"Oh." It made sense. She tucked the canteen away and slid her hands over her hips. "Do you need to take a break?"

"I am able to continue." He lifted the tricorder. "We are still forty-eight kilometers from your escape pod."

Amanda shuddered slightly. It was already midday and there was no way they would make it there before nightfall, especially at their current pace. That meant another night in the woods, only this time they would spend it under the stars, rather than tucked into the safety of a shuttle with a duranium hull.

Sarek checked the position on the tricorder and shortly thereafter, they resumed their trek back to Amanda's pod. She considered his body for a second time, suddenly curious about his age. Neither his hair nor his beard sported a single gray strand and his face, what she could see of it, was generally void of wrinkles. She would have almost guessed he was in his late twenties, but that didn't make sense, if he was really a trained astrophysicist and now a planetary ambassador. Early to mid-thirties, perhaps? Certainly not a day over forty.

She toyed with guesstimations of how long it would take someone to earn a graduate degree in astrophysics, thinking that maybe if he'd been some kind of child prodigy and had some really amazing thesis, he could have pulled it off by twenty-four or twenty-five. Or maybe the Vulcan education system worked differently.

Sarek spoke and turned to look at her. His sudden question broke her silly musings and she was embarrassed to realize she hadn't heard him. "What?"

"What kind of arrangements have you made to remain on the planet long term?"

"Um, _none_ , really. Like I said, I've only been here for ten days. Well, I guess eleven now. Or wait, is it _twelve_?" She started trying to inventory her time on Arg-117P, but Sarek clearly wasn't interested in her frantic mental calculations.

"The winter season will be upon us soon."

"But I thought we were going to try and get off this planet. Get the escape pod flying and go home?"

"Without seeing the escape pod, it is impossible to determine how long such an endeavor will take, or if it is even possible."

"It's _got_ to be possible."

"You are correct, it is _possible_ , but perhaps not with the limited resources we have."

Amanda stopped, allowing her eyes to dart over the forest. All of her anxieties from the night before started to reemerge. "We can't be stuck here. We just _can't._ "

"I assure you, it is entirely possible that we may be." He pivoted on his toe and turned to face her.

It was funny to think that two days ago, she'd been desperate for any kind of company. Now she was stuck with Mr. Personality and wished she could find a way to lose him in the woods.

It suddenly dawned on her that she was going to have to share her escape pod with him. They were going to _live_ together. She'd never even lived with men she'd dated, and now circumstances were going to force her to cohabitate with this grim, wise-ass, know-it-all. He was probably the kind of guy who organized junk drawers and had a color-coded closet full of shirts all hanging in the same direction.

She did her absolute best to try and look on the bright side. Hopefully, it would only be for a few days while they got the escape pod working. She could tolerate him for a few more days. Besides, wasn't it better to be stuck with an uptight astrophysicist who could get things done rather than one of her best friends who probably couldn't even find the escape pod's computer without help?

"We should increase our pace," Sarek said, not bothering to turn and look at her.

Amanda paused to hoist the rucksack further up onto her shoulders, resisting the urge to make a rude gesture at him. They walked up until dusk until they came to a wide clearing. In no time at all, Amanda had a roaring fire going and they split the final spicy beef and vegetable meal. Ordinarily she wouldn't have made such a scene, but that night, she licked the container clean, not caring what Sarek thought.

She'd had trouble falling asleep the night before, but she'd spent two of the past three days engrossed in grueling hikes, and even fear and foreboding couldn't keep her awake. The spent most of the next morning walking in total silence, and when they reached the edge of a grassy field in early afternoon, Amanda wanted to skip the final three kilometers to her escape pod.

"Home sweet home," she said darkly, nodding in the direction of her pod.

Sarek said nothing. They were greeted by swarms of rikki tikkis weaving in and out of the tall grass, and when they finally reached the pod, Amanda pulled on the release lever and asked, "How about some lunch?"

The moment they stepped inside, the overhead lights came on and Amanda wanted to crawl into a hole. She wasn't the most organized person, and it showed. She had three distinct piles of dirty laundry in separate corners. She quickly snatched a bra from one of the seats and tucked it behind her back.

"Um, the sonic shower actually works pretty well, if you'd like to get cleaned up," she said, gesturing to the little closet on the opposite end of the pod. "I wouldn't recommend using the toilet, because it's designed to process waste and immediately secrete it into space and well, we're obviously not in space."

Sarek blinked. "Obviously."

"Uh, well, uh, I'll leave you to it, then. Oh, and there might actually be some clothes that fit you. The pod came equipped with containers full of all-weather clothing, so…"

Sarek nodded. "Thank you."

"Or you could just, I guess, clean your clothes in the sonicator in the shower. That works too."

They stood staring at each other for several seconds before Sarek said, "Perhaps it is your turn to offer me some privacy."

Amanda blushed and shuffled out of the pod. It wasn't long before she regretted not grabbing one of the rations on her way out. She sat down, leaning her back against the pod and wondering if time had stopped. How long had he been in there? Forty-five minuets? An hour?

To be fair, it had probably only been twenty minutes, but her hungry stomach had a way of exaggerating things and he hadn't had a shower in more than a month. It was going to take time and effort to reverse that kind of grunge. As the minutes ticked by, she started getting antsy.

She got up and paced in circles. She pulled a few seeds from the long grass and nibbled on them, and was just starting to consider going down to the creek to hunt for more fruit when the escape pod door opened, revealing a stranger. He had donned clothes from one of the containers and was now wearing a pair of cargo pants, a fitted, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of tactical boots. He almost looked soldierly.

More striking still was that he'd managed to trim his hair into the more traditional Vulcan style and his face was now smooth. Without the cover of a beard, he looked so much thinner, but he looked kinder too. It occurred to her that he might even be _handsome_ , if she were inclined to think so.

Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious about her own appearance. It had been four days since her last shower and she certainly wasn't very fresh. She hadn't thought about it before, because until now, she had been a paragon of hygiene by comparison.

"You uh, you look _good_."

He studied her face. "Have you consumed a midday meal?"

"Not yet. All the food is inside the pod." She noticed he held a small canister in his hands. "What's that?"

He glanced down at the cylindrical object and for a moment, she thought he looked sad. "It is the escape pod's deuterium power cell. The power supply has nearly been exhausted."

* * *

"So, what do you mean, we can't get off the surface? You said we had enough power to last the next forty days!"

"We have sufficient deuterium to maintain basic functions on the escape pod for a time, but we would require far more than this to effectively break orbit of this planet."

"Why wouldn't the cruise line put enough fuel into these pods to actually get survivors where they need to go?"

"Escape pods were not designed for sustained inter-planetary travel. The pod was outfitted with sufficient supplies to maintain ten people for fourteen days, therefore it is likely it was stocked with only enough fuel to travel for a similar length of time. It appears you used the majority of the escape pod's fuel reserves simply travelling to Arg-117P."

"But you just said we had dilithium. That's fuel, isn't it?"

"We have enough dilithium to travel to Argellius II, but dilithium is only used for warp travel. Before we can travel at warp speed, we must first leave the planet and enter orbit, and for that, we require deuterium to power the thrusters and impulse engines. We do not have an adequate amount for this task."

"Then how do we get more?"

Sarek looked at his human companion. He knew she was hungry, but she hadn't touched the ration pack in her hands, something called "Barbecue Bacon and Beans." Whatever that was.

"There are no natural sources of deuterium on this planet. Even if there were, it would need to be refined and we lack the technology to do this."

"Hornsby's shuttle still had a functional deuterium power cell," Amanda argued, waving her hands around emphatically. "What if we got his?"

"Though Lieutenant Hornsby's shuttle is equipped with a much larger power supply, he spent years siphoning power from it. The shuttle has very little deuterium left, certainly not enough to power our impulse engines."

"What about your escape pod?"

"The deuterium power cell was damaged in the explosion. I used the last bit of power remaining in my descent to this planet."

"Please tell me you have some other idea to get out of here then."

"I have no immediate proposals, other than that we spend some time fortifying our camp and preparing for the coming winter."

" _What_? We're just… _giving up_?"

"No," Sarek replied, watching Amanda's face contort through expressions of horror and anger. She was perhaps the most emotional creature he'd ever encountered, but he supposed the circumstances were unusual. "We already know of two other vessels on the surface of this planet. Given the _Bell_ remains in orbit and you arrived here from a civilian cruise ship, it is possible there may be other shuttles or escape pods."

"That seems like a long shot." Her voice was dark and bitter. "And it's a huge planet. We're just supposed to wander around until we find a pod and _hope_ it has the fuel we need?"

He took a breath. "Perhaps you have an alternative suggestion."

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth formed several silent syllables until she finally said, "I can't do this right now."

She tossed the ration to the ground and started walking for the line of trees a short distance away from the back of the escape pod. He watched her go.

Sarek spent the next several hours listening to Lieutenant Hornsby's logs and inventorying the supplies. There were 192 ration packs remaining, which was enough to sustain one person for ninety-six days, or two people for forty-eight. According to Hornsby's accounts, winter on this continent lasted approximately four months, so they would need to work diligently to make up the shortfall in their resources if they were to survive.

As the sun drifted down into the horizon, he set about the task of cutting firewood. The pod had sufficient deuterium to power the pod's computers and life support systems for approximately forty consecutive days, but it seemed logical to conserve whatever power they could.

Amanda returned just as twilight settled. Even in the fading light, he could see her face was red and swollen. He made no comment on it; instead, he offered her one of the rations and they sat down together around the fire he'd built. He told of her of his preliminary plans to forage for food, build a latrine, cut firewood, and prepare for the onset of winter, but she said nothing.

"Do you have anything to add?" he asked.

"Do whatever you like." She scraped the last bit of food from the inside of the packaging, tossed it in the fire, and wandered into the pod.

Sarek meditated for a while as he waited for the fire to die down. He was tired and his body was still weak, and the realization that he would be stranded on this planet for some time, perhaps indefinitely, was difficult to accept. He meditated until the fire had exhausted itself into little more than smoking embers, but he could not settle his mind.

Frustration and hopelessness over his present situation gnawed at him until he could barely tolerate it. His hands were shaking once again, and nothing he tried remedied it. Eventually he gave up. If his shaking hands and inability to control his emotions were the result of strain and fatigue, remaining awake would only make matters worse.

When he entered the escape pod, he saw Amanda had made herself a bed from the seat cushions. She lay on her side facing the wall, a thin blanket pulled up over her shoulders. He moved quietly to avoid waking her, but he tripped over a pair of shoes and smashed his head into the wall.

The woman apparently had no fondness for organization. He waited to see if he had woken her, and deciding he hadn't, he kicked one of the piles of her clothes toward the middle of the room and made a bed for himself on the wall opposite hers.

He lay flat on his back and stared up at the sloped ceiling. Try though he might, sleep refused to come easily. He focused on steadying his breathing and was almost asleep when he heard a squeak from the other side of the room. He trained his ears to the noise, and soon heard another, and another.

It wasn't the sound of an animal prowling around outside, but rather, the sound of Amanda sobbing.


	9. Skinny Dipping Realizations

**Arg-117P: Day 13**

When Sarek awoke the next morning, he found himself alone in the pod. The dim emergency lighting strips along the floor and ceiling provided him just enough light to comb his hair and locate the exit, and when the hatch door sprang open, it revealed a gray and chilly scene. Thick fog clung to the grass in the open fields and swirled around his feet as he walked down the ramp.

He found Amanda sitting next to a small fire, huddled under a blanket and eating one of the rations with immense disinterest. Her face, particularly the area around her eyes, was red and swollen. He wasn't sure if it was a symptom of her tears or lack of sleep—she had stayed awake crying for quite some time. She didn't bother to look at him as he approached.

"Good morning," he offered.

"Well, it _is_ morning so I guess you're half right, anyway."

She appeared to be sitting upon one of the escape pod's storage containers, so he extracted one from the pod's undercarriage for himself and sat down opposite her. He was hungry, but he thought of the calculus of their current food supplies—forty-eight days for two people eating full meals, or potentially ninety-six days at half rations plus whatever they could forage to supplement their diets.

As Amanda's weeping had kept him awake, he'd chosen to use the time to fine-tune his strategy to fortify their camp and sustain themselves through the winter. He had a plan, and if they worked diligently for the next four days, they could accomplish it and then turn their attention to collecting food and fuel.

"What do you intend to do today?" he asked.

He was beginning to suppose she hadn't heard him and prepared to repeat himself when she looked at him with heavily-lidded eyes and said, "I don't know, boss. What are your orders?"

"I was not aware you considered me your supervisor."

She rolled her eyes, tossed her empty food container into the fire, and ran her fingertips through her dark hair. "There has to be _some_ way. There _has_ to be."

"Clarify."

"To get off this planet, obviously!"

"None that I can conceive of, given the current parameters."

"We at least have to be able to send a message… _something_. Even if no one will hear it until after we're dead, I just can't… I don't want to die like Hornsby did. Alone and forgotten before anyone even knew to forget him. His wife and child are back on Earth probably spending some lazy Sunday watching movies and counting the days until he comes home. They don't even know he died more than a century ago!"

"Why are you yelling?"

"Because I'm upset!"

Her entire face was turning red now. Sarek wanted to make additional inquiries, but he had no interest in provoking her further. She took several deep breaths and began again, this time more calmly.

"This can't be the end for us," she breathed. "It just can't."

"I think it would be wise to prepare for that eventuality."

She clenched her jaw and looked away. "I feel like I've been sentenced to life in prison."

"Yours is an imprecise analogy."

"Is it? We've been taken away from everything we knew, removed from our homes and families and society. We might as well be in prison."

Sarek gave a conciliatory nod of his head. "I did not say it was an entirely incorrect analogy, merely that-"

"Don't you have loved ones?" she interrupted.

"I have many people that I share a connection to."

"And you don't miss them?"

"I presume they are alive and in good health, particularly since so little time has passed for them, relative to me. I also-"

"But eventually we're going to die here and time will start passing for them and they will miss you."

"Are you always in the habit of interrupting people when they speak?"

She sneered and retorted, "I don't know, are you always in the habit of acting like dying all alone on a remote planet is perfectly fine?"

"I am not alone," he reminded her. "You are here. Furthermore, I never said it was 'perfectly fine,' merely that I can accept the situation for what it is."

"You are _unbelievable_ ," she sighed, leaping from her seat to storm into the pod.

He thought to himself for a moment. What was it about him she found difficult to believe? He existed, that much was obvious. Perhaps it was a human euphemism. He'd encountered so many already, during his short tenure as ambassador to Earth.

Despite her sour temperament, Sarek was grateful he had a companion. His chances of long-term survival increased dramatically because of her, provided she could find a way to master her very changeable mood.

His stomach grumbled. He glanced down instinctively, and noticed his hands had begun shaking once again.

* * *

**Arg-117P: Day 16**

Amanda cradled her hands around her neck. Every muscle ached and throbbed from three days of manual labor. Even her earlobes seemed to hurt. She wiped the sweat from her brow, noticing the overripe stench emanating from her armpits as she lifted her arms above her head. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but a loud _thwack_ brought her out of her private moment.

Apparently the Vulcan slave-driver had gone back to splitting logs. She smirked and rested her foot on the top of the shovel blade. "More power to him," she huffed under her breath.

They hadn't spoken more than a dozen words to each other in the past few days, but they had gotten quite a bit accomplished. It had taken him an entire day to dig a hole for a drop trench latrine and then another day to build a small shelter around it. As it turned out, he was one hell of a carpenter and engineer, especially for not having any nails.

She'd been skeptical, watching him cut notches into the ends of the long logs with the laser cutter, but in the end, everything had fit together like premium discount furniture from a factory direct store. He'd measured it all perfectly.

Amanda had spent her time burying the airtight containers that had once housed the clothing and supplies for the passengers. There were ten trunks that were a meter and a half long and a meter wide and deep that would work well as improvised root cellars.

Digging the holes in the clay-like soil was some of the most honest work she'd ever performed. She'd managed to transform most of the skin on her hands into blisters the first day, and despite opting for work gloves on day two after healing the blisters with a dermal regenerator, the joints and muscles in her fingers screamed in protest whenever she gripped the shovel.

She took occasional breaks from burying containers to hunt around in the soil near the tree line for tuberous roots. She'd made a little progress in that she'd already covered the bottom one of the buried containers with the potato-like vegetables, but she knew it wasn't even going to be close to enough to sustain them through the winter. It wouldn't even be enough to feed them both for a week. Worse yet, the tricorder listed their nutritional content as "fair" in that they were a good source of simple carbohydrates, but lacked most of the nutrients needed to balance a diet.

She knew of two other varieties of tuber, one that grew in the open grasslands that was a bit like a sweet carrot and another that grew near the water that tasted like a gritty, layerless onion, but they both still left a lot to be desired in terms of a well-rounded diet.

There was also abundant wild wheat. She'd cleared a small area around the pod with a machete and had left the stalks in three of the buried containers to dry, but it would be a while before she could thresh it from the thorny heads and she wasn't really sure how much grain she would end up with for her troubles.

She rested her chin on the back of her hand, which was resting on the pommel of her shovel, and looked out over the open grassland. She was tired and hungry and there were still several hours of daylight left. It was so much work to just _exist_. It almost seemed laughable that they were living out of a technologically advanced escape pod equipped with computers and devices that could communicate across space, but for all intents and purposes, they had essentially reverted back to the dark ages.

Sure, building the outhouse had gone much faster with the assistance of a laser cutter, and the firewood Sarek was currently cutting had come from trees that had also been felled by the laser cutter, but in the interest of conserving power, he was opting to splice the trees into smaller logs with a good old fashioned axe and wedge. Having cut firewood on many occasions, she knew it was backbreaking work, but she couldn't decide whether it was worse than digging root cellars. One thing she was certain of was that neither task was made easier by the fact that they were only eating one ration a day to stretch their food supplies.

It had seemed like a good idea when Sarek had suggested it on the first day, but after three days of grueling labor, it was hard to deny it was taking a serious toll. She'd nearly blacked out several hours ago when she'd stood up too fast, and she was taking a lot more breaks that lasted a lot longer as the days wore on. Her trousers were already loose and in a another couple of days, she felt confident she'd be able to tighten her belt by another notch.

Sarek wasn't complaining so she didn't dare complain either—the last thing she wanted was him thinking she was a whiner on top of being sulky and depressed—but she didn't see how they could go on this way. There were many times she had a hard time seeing the point in going on at all. They were dying by inches, slowly starving themselves and for _what_? The pleasure of a few more days of life in each other's company?

She realized she was on the cusp of dozing when she noticed the rhythmic thump of Sarek's axe had stopped. She opened her eyes to find he was staring at her, prompting her to offer him a curt smile and get back to digging. She pushed the shovel head into the dirt with her foot, scooped, tossed, and repeated. After about eight or nine repetitions, something unexpected happened when the shovel easily slid down into the soil and hit something soft.

There was a squeal and immense clicking, and then dozens of rikki tikkis started racing from the hole. Evidently, she'd hit a major den and they flowed out like water. She screamed and tripped backward, and they wasted no time darting over her body in their search for a new shelter.

In any other situation, it might have been funny or even cute, but on that day, it was nothing short of terrifying. She crawled backwards on her elbows and scrambled to her feet , brushing and beating her clothes to get the rodents off of her. She flailed around blindly until she smacked into Sarek's chest.

"Are you injured?"

Amanda didn't answer because she didn't know, but she kept instinctively brushing herself, paranoid one was clinging to her back. " _Get them off of me_!"

"They have all gone."

She looked around and realized he was right, then immediately felt embarrassed for causing such a scene.

"Are you injured?" he repeated.

"No," she snapped. "I think I'm done digging holes for the day though."

"The water jugs need to be refilled," he said, glancing to the antimicrobial plastic containers sitting next to the ramp.

It was amazing how quickly they went through water, not only for drinking, but also washing and cooking, and somehow, it had fallen to Amanda to make the daily trek down to the lake and refill the two ten-liter jugs.

"Yeah, fine," she muttered, wiping her hands off on her dingy jeans and scooping both containers up by the handles.

It was a task that needed to be done, but he never even said so much as "thank you." She'd thanked _him_ for building the outhouse, but he'd never said a word about any of her efforts, whether it was collecting food or water, building a fire, or washing their clothes. Surely not _all_ Vulcans were so unappreciative and entitled?

She made it to the lake in several minutes and sat down on the short, gravelly beach between a sloping, rocky overhang and a patch of trees. There were armadillaphant tracks everywhere, which put her slightly on edge, along with some smaller tracks of a three-toed animal she'd never seen up close and personal.

She followed them into the underbrush and quickly lost the trail, but she was pleased to discover some of the fruit bushes and quickly found five golf ball-sized plum-like fruits that had been overlooked by the local fauna. She tore into them hungrily, allowing the juices to flow down the sides of her cheeks. It was a little bit of heaven.

She ate two of them and wondered if she should save some for Sarek, and was in the midst of her deliberations when she started nibbling on the third fruit. By the time she spit out the pit, she figured she wasn't really under any obligation to share the fruit if Sarek wasn't willing to share the burden of collecting water, but even still, she palmed the two remaining fruits and resolved to give them to him, more to assuage her own guilt that she'd wanted to hoard food than to tend to his comfort. Like him or not, they were in this together.

She headed back to the beach, kicked off her socks and boots, rolled up her pants to her knees, and waded into the lake. The cold water made her muscles feel tight, but as it was the hottest part of the day, she really didn't mind.

She started filling one of the containers, a process that was somewhat slow thanks to the biofilter in the lid. It took about twenty minutes to fill each jug, which was annoying, but on this afternoon, Amanda watched the process with fascination. What was the big hurry? She wasn't exactly chomping on the bit to get back to camp just to go back to digging holes, was she? It was kind of nice, just being by herself for a while.

She left the jug upside down in the lake to fill on its own and waddled back to the beach. She laid down flat on her back and stared up at the sparse trees overhead and the wispy cloud formations drifting across the bright blue sky. It was a warmer day than the past couple of days had been and she wondered how many more there would be. The mornings were getting colder and she could hardly bear to be outside at night without a coat on.

She closed her eyes and dozed for a little while, but was started awake by the cries of a flock of aquatic dragonettes. She rubbed her face and sat up. The jug was gone. She rolled her eyes and crawled to her feet, sure it had just slipped underneath the surface of the water because it had filled completely and had lost any residual buoyancy. She waded out to where she thought it would be, and despite combing a wide radius with her feet, she couldn't find it. Had it floated away?

She smacked the water's surface with her hands, cursing herself for being so stupid as to allow it to fill all the way and sink. She could only imagine what Sarek would say if she came back without it. She fanned out, going deeper and deeper until the water was up to her chest, and after she'd kicked a couple of rocks and logs, she located the missing container.

She slogged back to the shore, shivering and annoyed. She would make it back to camp with both jugs, but she would also be soaking wet, and surely he would have some remark to make. She could always just say she fell in, she thought. Better to be clumsy than lazy and incompetent.

She waded back out with the second jug, opened the biofilter, and watched the container begin sucking in lake water. She watched the process intently for several minutes, feeling very dissociated from the experience. What was the point of this, of filling jugs? They would just be empty again tomorrow. She would fill them again, and then they would be emptied, and she would keep filling them until she died.

Staying busy digging holes and foraging for food had kept her mind busy, but a persistently empty stomach was making her body too tired to keep her mind occupied, and it wasn't long before she felt like she was choking on her own despair. What was the point of _any_ of this? She touched her wet hand to her sunburned forehead and tried to calm herself down.

Then she started laughing. It started as a giggle and crescendoed into maniacal cackling and it wasn't long before she had tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew she was probably cracking up, but if nothing really mattered anymore, what difference did it make? She pulled on the collar of her shirt, and thinking it was too tight, she stripped it over her head.

She looked down at her sweat-stained bra and thinking the sight of it was suddenly hilarious, she unclasped it and tossed it aside too. It wasn't long before she was completely naked, floating on her back in the lake and considering the sky overhead for a second time. She wasn't laughing now. The water was dreadfully cold, but she barely noticed. It was the most alive and dead she had ever felt, and she was strangely calm.

* * *

A final swing of the wedge split the half log into quarters. He stacked them both on the pile by the established campfire site and flexed his fingers. The work was slow and difficult, and based on their current consumption of firewood, he had only cut enough to sustain them for nine days. As the days grew colder, demand would only increase.

There was much more work to do, but before he split more firewood, he needed a shelter to keep it dry. He didn't see the use in building anything nearly as elaborate as he had for the outhouse—a simple A-frame structure would suffice. He would need to select the appropriate trees for this undertaking, but assuming he could find them nearby, he estimated he could complete the project in half a day.

He pulled his arms over his head, clasping his hands together and allowing the muscles of his back and shoulders to stretch. He was still quite thin and his fitness greatly reduced from half rations, but he found he was no longer plagued by hunger in the way he had been when he was trapped in the escape pod. He had incredible energy, and any residual soreness from his recently healed ribs and collarbones had disappeared. He rolled his head around from left to right, listening to his vertebrae pop. His eyes came to rest on the tree line a short distance away from the rear of the pod, mildly surprised that Amanda hadn't yet returned. She had been gone for approximately one hour.

Despite her emotionalism, he had been extremely impressed by her work ethic. Humans were weaker and had less endurance than Vulcans, but she had proven herself capable of keeping pace with his workload.

Deciding he had sufficient daylight to begin scouting for the ideal trees for a firewood shelter, he closed the hatch of the pod, slung the laser cutter and tow straps over his shoulder and headed for the woods. He wandered toward the setting sun, favoring that direction because the trees appeared taller. He walked for approximately twenty minutes until he found the edge of a lake, but he found no trees that would be suitable for the A-frame design he preferred to construct.

He suddenly shivered and his ears detected something that sounded like laughter. As he was heading in that direction, he continued on cautiously. Eventually, the sound ceased, and rather than continue to hunt for its source, he turned his attentions back to locating lumber for his firewood shelter.

He spied a copse of trees ahead, perched on a summit overlooking the lake. Several of them appeared tall and slender enough to suit his purpose and as he approached, he grew more confident at least two of them would work. He circled both trees several times, cutting through some spindly limbs on adjacent trees to clear a path. Just as he was running his hand up the bark of one of the trees, he noticed a flash of something in the lake below.

Sarek glanced down and before his mind could process what he was seeing and make logical sense of it, he shuddered. Amanda was naked and floating in the lake below. Her body appeared perfectly lifeless, and his initial thought was that she was dead. He stared at her, struggling to determine how such a thing could have happened. He inhaled a slow breath, then noticed her arms were slowly waving up and down. She kicked her legs and shook her hair out around her head, and Sarek could not make himself pull his eyes away from her.

She was slender and pale, excepting her lower arms, neck, and face, which were tainted red from ultraviolet radiation from the local star. He had urged her to take precautions and protect her skin, but she had stubbornly refused.

He had to force himself to blink and breathe. It was wrong, to look at her so exposed without her consent, and as this realization dawned on him, he was able to extract himself from the moment and look away. He closed his eyes and tried to block the image of her naked body from his mind, but the more he tried, the clearer the lines of her petite breasts, hips, and thighs became.

He swallowed hard, trying to clear a sudden knot from this throat. He bent to pick up the laser cutter, suddenly aware of the severe trembling in his hands. Rather than fell the two trees and alert Amanda to his presence, he collected his things and slinked away from the site. Soon he was jogging, and by the time he broke clear of the forest, he was running. He was out of breath when he reached the pod and he paced in circles, trying to collect himself.

He needed to meditate immediately. He pulled the pod's hatch open and slumped down onto the floor, focusing on his breathing and centering his thoughts. The trembling of his hands on his thighs was too distracting for any of his efforts to be particularly productive. He repeated the same three mantras over and over, desperate to purge his thoughts.

There was a sudden clank of metal on metal and a soft " _ooof_ " and he knew Amanda had returned. He opened his eyes, shocked to discover dusk was setting.

"Sorry it took me so long," Amanda said. "I had some trouble with the jugs. Oh, and I found some fruit."

She held out two of the fruits she called plums in her right palm. They stared at each other for several seconds before she looked away. "Like I said, sorry I'm so late getting back."

"Yes," he replied, standing up and accepting her offering, doing his best to avoid touching her. Her clothes were wet, which seemed unusual, considering she hadn't been wearing clothes in the lake just a short time ago.

She seemed to sense he was taking stock of her and she shrugged, saying, "I also fell in. I'm pretty clumsy."

Sarek swallowed and nodded.

"Anyway, I figured you'd have a fire going by now."

"I will tend to it, if you wish to dress in dry clothes." His response was swift and his words slightly ran together.

He balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking and yielded the pod to her so that she could change in private. The evening was growing quite chilly and he hurried to get a fire going. When Amanda appeared, she was wearing a jacket and brandishing two meals and the two fruits.

"You left these inside," she said, offering them up a second time. "Leave them sitting around too long and I'm going to help myself."

"If you are hungry, eat them."

She shot him a quizzical half smile. "I already ate three. I saved these for you. You've been working hard too."

"I am not hungry." He hadn't really consciously been aware of this fact until he'd stated it, but it was true. He genuinely had no desire for food.

Amanda sneered. "I don't buy that. You have to eat… you can't just…" She waved her hands around, as if the vague motion was sufficient to complete her thought.

He knew she was correct, whether or not he was hungry, he needed to maintain his strength and didn't see the need to upset her by continuing to refuse her offer. He cautiously accepted the fruits and the ration pack, which was labeled "Vegetarian Omelet" and forced himself to eat.

Amanda had selected chili and beans, and she seemed to be taking great care to consume every last morsel of food contained within it. It was with great interest that he watched her lick the back of the spoon, and when she noticed his eyes were on her, she hunched her shoulders and scowled. "Maybe it's not the best table manners, but is there really any point in standing on ceremony anymore?"

He blinked, momentarily unable to think of anything besides her tongue on the spoon. "No," he agreed, forcing another forkful of the omelet into his mouth and thinking it tasted like ash.

An hour later when they were tucked under their blankets on opposite sides of the pod, Sarek closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he wasn't even remotely tired. It wasn't a sudden realization as much as a slow acceptance, but he knew what it all meant. He had _always_ known.

The distraction, the trembling hands, the loss of appetite and insomnia. Despite the fact it was two years too early, he was entering pon farr. He had survived difficult conditions and endured incredible stress, and it wasn't entirely inconceivable that it would have affected his pon farr cycle.

It was logical that hardship would have induced a urge to reproduce—there were many such examples in nature. And whether it occurred now or two years from now, he had always known he would eventually have to contend with this very difficult, very private issue. He had thought he had more time, but as far as he could guess, he only had approximately three months before the yamareen would rise to sufficient levels to kill him.

Theoretically, he was fortunate there was a female available, but in reality Amanda was unsuitable in every way, chiefly because she would never consent to mate with him. He had no real talent for deciphering human facial expressions or body language, but it did not require an expert to determine Amanda was indifferent to him at best.

Even if she _did_ consent to mate with him—and she never would—she was _human_. He had no real objection to interspecies relationships, so long as they were between consenting adults, but he had never found humans sexually appealing. _Had_ he? His mind immediately darted back to the picture of Amanda floating naked in the lake and he knew that wasn't true, and he felt ashamed.

His options were quite limited and each was more terrible than the last. He could attempt to court Amanda and convince her to mate with him, but he knew nothing of human courting rituals. He could attempt a regimen of intensive meditation, but it would require excessive amounts of time spent in solitude and reflection. Given the current circumstances, it was a poor option, considering he would starve before he resolved his pon farr through meditation. His only other choice was to simply accept the inevitable and die.

He went around and around, weighing the drawbacks and benefits of each option. Perhaps if he could just explain the situation to Amanda, she would see the logic in mating with him to preserve his life and thus increase her own long-term chances of survival. Or perhaps if he could find a way to distance himself from her and meditate as often as he could. There was no truly good choice.

As he finally drifted off to sleep, he found himself resolving to limit the time he spent in her company. He had already violated her once by looking upon her body without her express consent, and he had no desire to risk offending her further, whether she was aware of it or not. He drifted in and out of one terrifying dream after another, but Amanda remained a central character in every single one of his visions.

The sound of the hatch opening startled him awake and he sat upright with excessive haste.

"Good morning, _sleepyhead_ ," Amanda grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Looks like we're stuck in here for the day."

He blinked several times, dimly aware that heavy rains were blanketing the camp beyond the pod. 

"So much for getting things done, huh?" She scowled and flopped down in one of the seats, leaning her head forward to massage her forehead with her fingertips. "The ground is going to be a sloppy mess. I have no idea how I'm going to get the rest of those trunks buried."

She continued to lament the weather, but it was taking everything Sarek had to soothe his active mind enough to allow his erection to subside.

Amanda sighed and slumped back in the chair. "Anyway, I guess we're stuck together for the day. Are you planning on getting out of bed?"


	10. Miscalculations

**Arg-117P: Day 17**

" _It's stardate 2230.98. I guess. It's not been a good day. The deer got into the garden again and it's raining and I'm afraid the shuttle is going to flood if this keeps up. Belinda used to hate the rain, but she grew up in El Paso so I guess that makes sense. I wonder how she's doing. I regret cursing the drought from last autumn. I don't know if it's the weather or what, but I've got some kind of skin infection on my feet and it's hurting to walk…_ "

A loud sigh punctuated the playback. "Please turn it off."

Sarek looked up from his calculations to see Amanda lying flat on her back on the floor, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. It was the same position she'd assumed more than two hours ago. Burying himself in the mathematical complexity of mapping the time distortion had helped keep his mind off his very pressing, very _personal_ problem.

"Is something the matter?" Sarek asked, reluctant to be drawn into conversation with her.

"I don't want to hear about Carl Hornsby's foot fungus."

"Reviewing his logs may provide valuable insight into how better to survive on this planet."

Her hand drifted from her face and flopped onto the floor. "Oh _really_? What new revelations have you gleaned from these incoherent ramblings that you didn't already know? He nearly starved to death in the winter and nearly drowned in the spring. He misses his family and he doesn't understand why any of this had to happen to him. _I get it._ "

She lifted her arms above her head, a motion that inadvertently accentuated her breasts. He immediately looked away and began performing complex mental calculations. Under any other circumstances, it would have been preferable to acknowledge his shameful thoughts and repress them rather than distract himself into ignoring them, but these were far from typical circumstances.

"What, nothing to say?" she sighed.

"Computer, end log playback." Sarek turned his attention back to the computer screen.

"What are you working on?"

"I am attempting to compile the data from Lieutenant Hornsby's shuttle and our escape pods to map the temporal distortion."

"What will that do?"

"If I could account for the exact amount of gravimetric shear, I may be able to modify the pod's distress beacon to transmit a signal beyond the region of temporal distortion."

"One that they won't get until thousands of years from now?"

"Four days ago, you said you didn't want to die like Hornsby did, alone and forgotten. You insisted we should attempt to communicate even if our transmission wouldn't be received until after we had died."

She was quiet for several minutes, which was just long enough for Sarek to fully immerse himself in his work and nearly forget she was there.

"Do you think they'll feel sorry for us?"

Sarek ground his teeth. "I do not understand the purpose of your question."

"Whoever finds our message. I mean, I feel sorry for Carl Hornsby, so I wonder what anyone who reads our little message in a bottle will think."

He twisted his neck to look at her. Nothing she had just said made any sense. "To use your highly emotional phrase, why should anyone feel sorry for us? We will be dead."

Amanda pursed her lips, forcing them into a smile. "Thanks for reminding me."

He studied her face even more closely. Was she genuinely thanking him, or employing sarcasm? He sensed it was the latter.

Her face slackened, and the softening of the muscles around her mouth gave her a very stoic appearance and he could not help but believe she was beautiful. Her eyes drifted in his direction, meeting his and sending his heart thundering in his chest, so he looked away and decided to employ the very human tactic of changing the subject.

"I am not well-studied in human euphemisms," he began, his throat suddenly dry. "What is a message in a bottle?"

"Um, its _literally_ just what it sounds like."

They stared at each other, unblinking, giving Sarek the impression that neither of them could identify the source of the other's confusion.

"If it is literally what it sounds like, how will encapsulating a message within a bottle benefit us?"

Amanda rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall. "I guess when I said _literally_ , I didn't mean literally for _us_. It's an expression, but it's based on something people used to do. On Earth, people used to write messages on paper, put them in watertight bottles, and put them in the ocean for other people to find. They were messages to no one and most were probably never found. Kind of like our message will be, _if_ we can even find a way to send one."

"What was the purpose of this practice?"

"Um, maybe to write a love letter or find a pen pal? Maybe there's a thrill in thinking someone on a different continent will find it? Or someone in the distant future?"

They resumed their prior activity of confused staring. The only use for a message in a bottle that Sarek could contrive was perhaps to study water currents, but all of Amanda's theories and suggestions were so irrational. And what was a pen pal? A friend that was a writing instrument? Or a friend with whom to exchange writing instruments? Or had she said _pin_ pal? It didn't matter, because neither possibility likely had an explanation that made any more sense than the concept of a message in a bottle.

Amanda continued. "I think some people might even do it just to feel better. Maybe they write down a confession hoping no one will ever find it. Sort of like turning their cares over to the ocean."

That concept intrigued him. Evidently something in his expression had changed, because Amanda cocked an eyebrow and said, "You almost look like you're about to smile."

"No," he replied, wondering if his oncoming pon farr had already degraded his logic to the point where he could not voluntarily control his facial features. "What you describe sounds similar to the Vulcan ritual of La'tus-pitoh'a, or mourning letters."

"What is that?"

"When Vulcans are unable to cope with profound grief and have been suffering for an extended period despite intensive meditation, they often visit a temple to seek assistance from priests through complex mind melds."

" _Mind melds_?"

"Were you not aware most Vulcans have contact telepathic abilities?"

"I feel like I've heard that at some point but I never really thought about it. So you… _what_? You read each other's minds through touching one another?"

"That is a very crude description, but yes."

She thought for a moment, then her face suddenly grew pale and she drew her legs up to her chest. "Are you able to read _my_ mind by touching me? Or does it only work on Vulcans?"

He noticed she was rubbing her arms in a circular motion, almost as if she were attempting to wash herself without soap.

"Mind melds can work on many species, but they are difficult to initiate. For most Vulcans, a true mind meld requires one individual to join their fingertips to certain sites on the other person's face and sustain intense focus. A mind meld typically cannot occur through casual contact."

"You said _most_ Vulcans though. And what do you mean _typically_ cannot occur through casual contact?"

He briefly thought of T'Rea, his former betrothed, who had the most powerful mind he'd ever encountered. "There are a small minority of Vulcans capable of psionic ability without the need for physical contact."

Amanda closed her mouth hard enough for him to hear the clank of her teeth before muttering, "And you? Are _you_ … one of these people?"

He momentarily considered explaining to her that physical contact sometimes wasn't necessarily between two or more people who shared an extraordinarily powerful bond—such as the bond between mates or between parents and their children—but the look of alarm on her face suggested she strongly disliked the idea that he could know her mind, and so he gave a simplified yet truthful answer that he believed would set her at ease.

"No. I have received extensive training in the practice of mind melds, but my abilities are generally average."

Amanda stared straight ahead, chewing on her lip. Once again, Sarek was forced to look away to avoid thinking about her in ways that were less than pure. He was considering checking the tricorder to see if the weather forecast had improved, but Amanda asked, "So what is this lattice pattoh?"

Her pronunciation was so terrible it took him several seconds to recall he'd been telling her about the La'tus-pitoh'a ritual.

"I know I probably botched that word," she added. He wasn't looking at her, but he could sense from her tone that she was smiling.

"Yes, you said something suggestive of walking on one's head," he replied, unable to bring himself to face her.

Amanda laughed, which sent shivers down his spine. She had laughed so readily when they'd first met and he'd found it tedious, but now the melody was strangely pleasing. He balled his hands into fists and took several concentrated breaths.

"You know what I meant," she said when her laughter subsided. "The thing that means mourning letters."

"Prior to the ritual of melding with the priests, the supplicant writes down their thoughts surrounding their grief onto paper, then burns it in ceremonial fire."

"That sounds cathartic," she sighed. "Maybe I should try that."

"Are you grieving?"

"I don't know. _Maybe_. We've both lost a lot, getting stuck here like this."

"We have lost much, and yet we have retained out lives, despite incalculable odds."

"Is that supposed to be some Vulcan way of telling me to look on the bright side?"

"There is much to be grateful for."

"And there's also a lot to be sad about."

"There is no logic in sadness," Sarek replied. "It is why Vulcans seek the La'tus-pitoh'a ritual: to rid themselves of that unfortunate burden."

"Do Vulcans do anything besides sit around and logic and meditate all day?" Her tone was clipped and verging on hostile, which was threatening to make him agitated.

"Vulcans do not _do_ logic—logic is simply a tool that provides a more efficient way of interacting with life."

She sighed. "So what _do_ you do, when you're not being an ambassador or astrophysicist?"

"Specify."

"How do you spend your time? What do you _normally_ do on rainy day?"

"It does not rain in Shi'Kahr, thus I have no habit of finding ways to occupy myself on rainy days."

"What do you mean it doesn't _rain_ in Shi'Kahr? Like, _ever_?"

"There have been no recorded precipitation events in more than five hundred years."

"So how do people live there, if there's no water?"

"I did not say there was no water. Much of the equatorial region of Vulcan lacks a defined water cycle similar to that of Earth, but it does not make it incompatible with life. There are many underground sources of water that originate from wetter areas of the planet that sustain the populace and the native flora and fauna."

"That's interesting," she mused. "I knew it was a hot, dry place, but it's incredible to think it _never_ rains. Even the driest places on Earth get _occasional_ rainfall. But I guess that also explains why you don't need as much water as I do, if your species was able to evolve somewhere like that."

Sarek saw no need to respond to her statement—she was correct. He returned to analyzing the compiled data, but had been working for less than ten seconds when Amanda asked, "So is that where you're from?"

His mind stalled as he tried to shift his focus. "What?"

"Shi'Kahr, is that where you're from?"

He turned in his chair to face her once again and found that she had adopted a prone position, lying on her belly with her elbows on the floor and her hands resting under her chin, supporting her head. Her casual posture was oddly appealing.

"Sarek?"

"What?"

"Why are you staring at me?" she scoffed. "Or are you trying to remember where you're from?"

"I do not believe I was," he answered quickly, adding to clarify, "Staring at you. And _yes_ , I am from Shi'Kahr."

"Isn't that the capital city of Vulcan?"

"It is the name of both the capital city and the province in which that city resides."

"So are you a city boy or did you grow up in the province?"

"My family has an estate forty kilometers from the main city center."

"An _estate_ , wow."

"What is so remarkable about this revelation?"

"An estate implies money, or landed gentry, or some idea of upper class. I grew up in a two bedroom apartment in New Chicago with my mom."

"I see."

"So what did you do on this estate in Shi'Kahr?"

"I have already explained I was an astro-"

"I meant what did you do for _fun_ ," she interrupted. "Surely it's logical to have fun? Or to have hobbies? Or to _relax_ , occasionally?"

"Why are you so concerned with how I once occupied my leisure time?"

"Because I'm trying to get to know you," she responded, flicking her eyes in his direction. "Is it so weird that I want to know about the person I'm going to spend the rest of my life with?"

"And you believe knowledge of the fact that I enjoy music or wehk-pukan will allow you to know me better?"

" _Won't_ it?"

"Knowing generic facts about a person is not the same as knowing them."

"It's a place to start, though," she challenged. "And what is whack pookan?"

Sarek did his best to ignore her atrocious pronunciation and simply replied, "It is a competitive form of martial arts."

"Martial arts? Like karate?"

"I do not know what karate is."

"It's a kind of martial arts, I guess," she replied, before shaking her head and staring up at the ceiling. "Wait, I need a second to process this. You do martial arts? Like, fighting people and stuff?"

"Yes. As I have stated on a previous occasion, why do you so often respond to any answer I give with incredulity?"

"Because I thought Vulcans were pacifists."

"That is incorrect."

Amanda flashed a broad smile and pushed herself up onto her knees, then folded her legs around her into a crossed position to sit. "I obviously don't know as much about Vulcans as you do, but I'm pretty sure I remember learning in my high school interspecies culture class that one of the chief tenets of Vulcan philosophy is non-violence."

"That is correct, but an abhorrence of violence is not the same as pacifism. Peace is always to be preferred, but war and violence are occasionally necessary."

"So how do you reconcile this non-violence with martial arts? I know there's more to martial arts than violence, but fighting _is_ part of it, and isn't fighting by definition a kind of violence?"

"Since the time of Surak, Vulcans have acknowledged the necessity of maintaining certain skillsets, primarily as a means of self-defense. There is nothing more logical than the pursuit of a long and prosperous life, and to live, one must first survive, and if one is to survive, one must acknowledge that measured violence may occasionally be necessary."

Her face fell slightly and her eyes drifted toward her hands, which were sitting in her lap. "Do you think we'll survive here?"

"We are surviving now," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but for how long?"

Sensing she was on the verge of opining about the direness of their situation, he replied, "That is unknown, but neither was there any certainty to the length of our lives when we were in contact with civilization. I do not know if we will ever experience life away from this planet again, but ours is not a situation without hope, and there is strength in hope."

She stared at her hands for a long time, and he had begun to believe she was meditating and began to turn back to the computer when she sighed and asked, "So you said you liked music… do you play an instrument? Sing? Just enjoy listening to it?"

"I play the ka'athyra."

"What is that?"

"It is a stringed instrument."

"Like a harp, like a guitar, like a violin?"

"I do not know what any of those are."

Despite the fact that he had not asked her to, she proceeded to explain what each instrument was in turn, including attempting to mimic the sounds of each with her mouth. Eventually she decided to find some songs on her PADD she believed would serve as worthy demonstrations of each kind of instrument.

In the middle of a soothing harp solo that she had informed him was Canon in D, she suddenly asked, "How do you spell katheera?"

Sarek thought to himself for a moment, trying to decide on the closest phonetic Standard relatives to the Vulcan syllables before he was able to spell "ka'athyra" for her. Several seconds later, a soft, instrumental lullaby echoed through the cabin, bringing with it a wave of nostalgia Sarek hadn't anticipated. His mother had often sung this song to him when he was a small child.

"This is what it sounds like?" Amanda asked.

He looked over his shoulder to see her tapping the screen of her PADD to examine several images of different ka'athyras.

"Yes." He closed his eyes and saw his mother's face, and for the first time since the incident aboard the _Bell_ , he admitted that he missed her. He missed his family. He missed home.

* * *

It had stopped raining in the night, but the ground was still a sloppy mess and it was so humid that it might as well have been raining. Amanda wiped her damp face with the back of her hand and was annoyed to find that not only was there mud on her glove, but she'd just smeared it all over her forehead.

"We will still need to seal the logs of the roof with tree sap," Sarek said from behind her.

Amanda pulled her gloves off and rested her hands on her hips. She glanced at the modest little shack they'd spent all day erecting to keep their firewood dry, and then looked up at the sky.

Thick clouds blotted out the sun so she couldn't precisely gauge the time, but she knew from the shifting light that it had to be late afternoon. "How much sap do we need? And did you get it from those silvery blue trees or the ones with the six-pointed leaves?"

"I will collect it," Sarek replied, not bothering to look at her.

"Ok then, I guess I can either cut more wood for our new shack or I can go back to digging holes for root cellars."

"I would recommend digging holes while the ground is soft." He picked up a small container and began walking toward the tree line.

"So I take it you're going to go get the sap now?" she called after him.

"Yes."

She rolled her eyes and sat down on the ramp leading up to the pod entrance. She was exhausted and hungry, and the idea of digging more holes sounded about as appealing as putting her hand in a wood chipper. It had taken all day to build the firewood shelter, and the task had been made even more physically grueling because of the mud.

They had spent all morning slogging through the forest to find the right trees, cut them down, and drag the logs back to camp, and from there, Sarek had cut and measured the joints. It was amazing how quickly and easily it had come together from there, more like pitching a tent or putting together a puzzle than building a firewood shack.

She would have asked him where he'd learned to do all of this, but she suspected he would have given her some short, curt answer about simple mathematics and so she decided to save her breath. Being cooped up with him in pod yesterday had been as boring as it had been awkward.

It was hard enough trying to come to terms with her new reality without his constant presence. He pulled his weight, which she appreciated, but he was so aloof that it made her uncomfortable. There was no way to get a feel for what he was like as a person because he was so closed off, and earlier that morning she'd come to the conclusion that he hated her.

It wasn't just that he didn't want to talk to her, he didn't even seem to want to _look_ at her. Amanda had lived much of her adult life by a code that stipulated there was no point in caring too much what others thought about her, just so long as she was true to herself and generally treated others with respect, but now it occurred to her that her personal policy was currently falling very short.

Sarek didn't like her, but she couldn't just write him out of her life in favor of finding more positive people to be around. She was stuck with him and for the first time since high school, she found herself deeply upset by the idea that someone didn't like her.

Was it that she talked too much? Was it that she'd asked too many personal questions too soon? Did he think she was lazy and not working hard enough? He _was_ Vulcan—maybe he thought she was too emotional.

But so _what_ if she was emotional? She was _human_ , she was allowed. Any human would be reasonably upset by the current situation. She went back and forth, struggling to reconcile the idea that he should accept her for who she was with the feeling that maybe she could try a little harder to control herself out of respect for who he was. But he had said he was an ambassador to _Earth_ , so surely he was used to dealing with humans.

She started scraping the mud from her forehead and decided to stop driving herself crazy with speculation about why Sarek didn't like her. The best thing to do would be to just ask him outright. They might be very different people, but they could still be mature adults who could talk through their problems with one another.

A dry run of the conversation streamed through her head. She might say something like, " _Why do you hate me_?" to which he would probably reply, " _Hate is illogical_." The word _hate_ was probably too strong, she decided, so perhaps she should be more diplomatic in her phrasing. What if she tried, " _Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've noticed you don't seem to enjoy being around me. What can we do to fix that_?"

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine how he would respond. What if he just did what he always did when she asked him an uncomfortable question, which was to stand rigidly and avoid looking at her? No doubt his hands would start shaking too.

Amanda was getting the sense that his shaking hands were something Sarek would prefer not to talk about. He clearly tried to hide it, either by clenching his hands into fists or tucking them behind his back, but she noticed all the same. She didn't know anything about Vulcans, but no one's hands would shake for no reason.

Maybe he hated her _so_ much that his shaking hands were some kind of physical response. She laughed at such a ridiculous thought. She toyed with the idea of malnutrition but dismissed it. He was still thin and underfed, but he'd grown a lot stronger in the short week since they'd first met. What if he had some kind of neurological disease?

She remembered her granddad on her father's side used to have hand tremors and he'd refused to get treatment for several years until that one awkward Thanksgiving when he'd dropped the gravy boat and her grandmother caused a scene at the dinner table and threatened to divorce him if he didn't go to the hospital right then and there. He'd ended up having something called Parkinson's, but he'd gotten surgery and the hand tremors went away.

Amanda swallowed hard and hoped against hope he didn't have some Vulcan equivalent of Parkinson's disease. There was no telling how long it would take to get to the nearest hospital. As much as she dreaded the prospect of spending the rest of her life with him, the thought of spending the rest of her life without him was scary.

Rather than continue to dwell on her problems, she bounced to her feet and reached for the shovel, but her body protested with every muscle movement. She literally did not have the energy to spend the next several hours shoveling mud to bury more retrofitted root cellars, and the idea of swinging an axe and maul was even more ludicrous. Yet she also didn't want Sarek to come back and find she'd done nothing while he was gone, so she grabbed a hand trowel and a bucket and went to go hunt for tuberous root vegetables.

Wading through the waist-high blue-green grass was work in its own way. The ground was so saturated with water that the soil had turned into a boggy nightmare, and at least a kilogram of mud caked each of her boots. Several times she sunk down up to her knees and literally had to crawl to free herself. How could it be this much work, just to live?

When she reached the edge of the forest, she plopped into a sitting position, figuring there was no point in trying to stay clean when the lower half of her body was already plastered in mud. She pulled up several dozen of the small onion-like vegetables, then shifted forward on her hands and knees to reach several more that were further away. She struck a huge knot of them and extracted them by the handful until her spade struck the root system of a nearby tree, covering her hand in sticky sap.

Wasn't this the sap Sarek had come to harvest? She looked around. Where _was_ he? Why had he gone deep into the forest when what he'd been looking for was right here? Her mind became active with possibilities, most of which featured some central theme of him trying to avoid her presence.

It shouldn't have bothered her, because she didn't want to be around Sarek all the time either, but it still _did_. Why did he dislike her so much? She spent another hour digging for root vegetables, filling the bucket to the point where she had to start creatively stacking the onions to get them to fit, but Sarek still hadn't emerged from the forest. It was going to be _dark_ soon.

Rather than take the literal fruits of her hard work back to their camp, she contrived an excuse about wanting to wash the mud from her boots in the pond and headed into the forest to look for Sarek. And wash the mud from her boots, of course. She stuck close to the usual path, finding herself unable to avoid several deep mud puddles, but Sarek was nowhere to be seen.

Amanda stopped at the gravelly beach where she normally collected water. A flash of movement in the distance alerted her to the presence of two armadillaphants on the opposite side of the large pond, and suddenly she felt worried. Where had he gone? She headed in the direction of the setting sun, following the shoreline as best she could.

She walked and walked, doing her best to swallow her panic but feeling less capable with each passing minute. Just as she was debating whether she should start calling out to him, she spied an unusual dark shape through a copse of trees. It took her eyes a second to focus, but there was no mistake, it was Sarek. But what was he _doing_?

She backtracked and wound up a rocky trail to a tall ledge overlooking the pond about a hundred meters from his location. He was kneeling with his hands draped on his knees, and it was hard to tell in the fast-fading light from this distance, but he seemed to be muttering to himself. Was he praying? Meditating? Indignation started to set in. He could meditate in the pod, but instead he'd chosen to lie about collecting sap and waste daylight to come out here by himself while she kept working. _And_ he'd scared her half to death. And _yet_...

Guilt would not allow her anger to continue. Just two days ago, she'd done a very similar thing. Instead of collecting water, she'd stripped off her clothes and wandered into the freezing pond like a crazy person. Who was she to judge him?

It pained her to think she'd spent so much time wrapped up in how devastating this whole thing was for her to really stop and consider Sarek. He'd continually insisted that it was illogical to be upset about being stuck here, but he'd never actually come out and said that he wasn't upset, just that there was no logic in _being_ upset. For all his stone-faced, dispassionate acting, maybe deep down he was struggling to cope too.

Suddenly she was intruding upon a private moment, rather than busting him for shamming out of work or avoiding her. She started to head back, but she was only three steps into her journey when a rock that should have been secure slipped off the edge of the short cliff. She remembered the exhilarating feeling of falling, the terror-motivated screaming, and the sight of the huge broken tree she was about to fall on. Then there was pain, then there was nothing.

" _Amanda_?"

Someone was shaking her shoulder. Who? Her dad? No, that didn't make sense. Probably Sarek. Why couldn't he just let her sleep? There was a long pause, then the shaking grew more violent. A warm hand pressed onto her face, sending an involuntary shiver went through her body.

"What do you want?" she whined, swatting his hand away. The warmth of his palm disappeared from her face. Why was it so cold? Why was she _wet_? She opened her eyes and was surprised by twilight. Why was she _outside_?

A Vulcan face popped into her field of view. Sarek had a thick streak of mud slathered on the left side of his face and he was staring at her with a pressing look of concern. She rapidly blinked, hoping her brain would restart and help her figure out what had happened.

She tried to sit up, but the pain nearly made her black out. It hurt so bad she couldn't easily localize it, but the throbbing seemed to be coming from her right thigh.

"Can you feel your legs?" Sarek asked.

"Yes," she choked. "It hurts so bad. What happened?"

"You fell."

"From where?" The instant the question escaped her lips, it all came rushing back to her. She'd been wandering around the woods looking for him, she'd caught him meditating, and then…

Amanda shuddered. Despite the pain, she twisted her torso around to look at the lower half of her body. She couldn't help it: she screamed. Her right leg was twisted at an ungodly angle. It barely even looked like a _leg_.

"Please, try to remain calm," Sarek encouraged.

She gripped the front of his shirt with white knuckles and through incoherent sobbing, told him all manner of things about not wanting to die and begging him to tell her this wasn't happening.

"I am going to go get the bone knitter," he told her, firmly gripping her fists to loosen her grip.

" _You can't leave me here_ ," she hissed. "Please, _please_ don't leave me here."

"I will return as quickly as possible."

Amanda uttered a panicked squeak and scanned the area. It was so dark she could barely see more than three meters away. "Please don't leave me here alone."

"Amanda, I cannot carry you out of here without further aggravating your injury. Even if I could, I do not believe you could endure the pain."

The rational part of her brain knew he was right, but the animal part of her brain refused to be left alone, broken and bleeding by a pond on an alien planet in the dark.

"Please don't let me die," she sobbed. "I don't want to die."

"I do not want you to die either," he said, his tone so polite and matter-of-fact that it frightened her. "Now, I am going to return to the pod-"

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry," she interrupted.

"Why do you apologize?"

"I don't know," she wailed, trying to wipe the tears from her face. "I don't know what I did to make you hate me, but I'm so sorry and please don't let me die."

"I do not _hate_ you, Amanda," he replied, his tone softer. "But I must go. I do not think you will survive here long like this. If you want to live, you must allow me to go."

She nodded, closed her eyes, and rested her head back down in the mud. By the time she reopened her eyes just seconds later, Sarek was already gone. Her fear began to dilate like a massive balloon, but the harder her heart thumped, the more her leg hurt.

She tried to take some slow breaths but nearly ended up hyperventilating instead. She'd spent the past few days drowning in sorrow, contemplating the futility of living like this, but now that she was legitimately staring down death, she wanted nothing more than to keep on living. Her teeth started to chatter and she was trying to estimate how far away the pod was when a rustling in the bushes made her hair stand on end.

" _Sarek_?" she whispered.

No answer.

There had been armadillaphants on the other side of the pond, but from her current position and the direction of the sound, there was no way an animal that massive and clunky could have snuck up on her. The image of the huge three-toed tracks around Hornsby's shuttle popped into her head and she slid her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

Another rustling sound broke through the darkness, closer this time and very unmistakable. Amanda clenched her jaw and stared up at the stars overhead through a small break in the clouds. What else could she do but play dead?

" _Please, Sarek_ ," she pleaded mentally. " _Please hurry_."


	11. The Broken Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe an important plot point in this chapter to [FirstDraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirstDraft/pseuds/FirstDraft), so major thanks to them. See, sometimes leaving feedback can affect change. :)

**Arg-117P: Day 18**

Sarek tore through the wet, dark forest, trying to find his way back to the narrow path he'd cut through earlier that afternoon. Things looked very different at nighttime. He stumbled over a knotted root, just managing to catch his balance on a half-rotted tree leaning against a boulder overlooking the pond.

Just as he prepared to push off from the branch and resume his course, the wood crumbled beneath his fingers and he flailed wildly, fighting to stay upright as his feet slid through the slick mud. The medical kit smashed into the boulder and rather than risk damaging it, Sarek allowed himself to fall.

He inhaled slowly, willing himself to be calm. Amanda needed immediate medical help, but there was logic in modulating caution and urgency. He could spare an additional minute to take care. The rains had made the ground soft and unpredictable, and injuring himself in his haste to get to her would be of no benefit to either of them.

He stood and held his breath, training his ears toward the night in an attempt to discern whether he could hear her cries. There was nothing, and that was worrisome. She was not far and given her present condition, any vocalizations of pain would be quite understandable. He set off again at a brisk walk, focusing his hearing with such intensity that the brushing of leaves and the squeals of insects threatened to disorient him. He had to find her. She _had_ to live.

Sarek gripped the handle of the medical kit so tightly it strained his knuckles. He was desperate to avoid thinking about the fact that he'd nearly melded with her. Images of her pale face and lifeless body draped over the broken tree flashed through his mind and he shuddered. It had seemed necessary at the time: he'd thought she was dying. She might be dying even now.

It had been only logical to begin the process of a katra graft to preserve her life. Logical. _Entirely_ logical. But had it been _ethical_? He was suddenly transported back through the decades to primary school, annoyed he felt compelled to remind himself of the most foundational logical principles. He could almost hear his own adolescent voice reciting the postulates of argumentation. " _All reasoning involves selectivity. Sound reasoning must precede logical reasoning. Logical reasoning provides no guarantee of an ethical argument…_ "

Amanda had regained consciousness before he'd actually touched her mind and so his katra remained intact, but he had been prepared to do what he must to save her life, including donating a portion of his soul. But had it been for her benefit or his? He wasn't sure, and it troubled him.

" _There can be no right actions without right intent_ ," his old schoolmasters would have said.

When he had heard her scream from the fall, his first instinct had been for her well-being, but almost as quickly, a selfish instinct had also emerged. If she died, he would certainly die also, but that was a consequence of the situation, not of his own desires. It would be illogical to deny that even now, his frantic trek through the woods was tainted by a wish for self-preservation, but it would also be illogical to ignore that he respected Amanda as a sentient being, worthy of life independent of his needs.

His epistemic conundrum fell to the wayside when the sound of a whimper pierced the darkness, bringing him to a sudden halt. There was a hissing noise, followed by some grunting. " _Go away! Get! Shoo_!"

"Amanda?" he called, raising his voice without fully shouting.

" _Sarek_?" a voice squealed back. "Sarek, over here!"

His eyes began to focus in the pale moonlight and he realized he was about a hundred meters south of the rocky vantage point he'd been meditating on just a short time ago. It took careful maneuvering to navigate down the steep slope to her position, and when he found her, she was surrounded by a dozen small animals, roughly the size of desert voles and covered in thick scales. They had formed a semi-circle around her and were facing inward, perhaps as a means of self-defense while they collectively decided whether she was a predator or something more benign.

Despite Sarek's approach, they remained motionless. He waved the medical kit in their direction to scare them away, and though some of them moved to avoid being struck, they didn't flee like he would have expected such small animals to do when confronted with a much larger creature. They were utterly fearless. He stepped forward more boldly swinging the case a second time, and again, several of their tapered heads bobbed out of the way, but they stood their ground.

"These things are so weird," Amanda hissed through chattering teeth. "Why won't they go away?"

"I do not know."

Several more of the animals appeared from out of the bushes and entered the formation. Sarek set the medical kit on the ground, picked up a stick, and poked one in the ribs—not hard, just enough to demonstrate he was resolute in his desire that they should leave. Rather than scamper off, it bared a set of sharp teeth and latched onto the end of the branch in his hand.

He pulled the stick back but the animal had powerful jaws and refused to let go. After shaking it several times, he flung it into the lake with the animal still attached.

Amanda gasped and Sarek watched the remaining animals, who had now grown in number to about twenty. "What is _wrong_ with them?"

Sarek reached for the medical kit, wary of the fact that several of the larger ones were inching nearer to Amanda. "Sarek, do something. _Please_ make them go away. This is so creep- _argh_!"

She howled. Sarek reeled around to find one of them had sunk its teeth into the upper part of her arm and another one had dug into her shoulder, precariously close to her neck. The others started to move in, and what ensued was a desperate fight to keep a pack of tiny carnivores from eating her alive.

He stepped on several and flung several more into the lake, sustaining numerous bites to his hands, forearms, and ankles. Amanda screamed and writhed, swatting at the creatures in helpless terror. Just as he was grabbing two of them by their stubby, thorny tails to keep them from advancing on her face, he stumbled backward and crashed hard into the open medical kit.

Without really thinking, he grabbed the multipurpose dermal regenerator, set it to maximum power, and used the resulting high-intensity laser beam as a weapon rather than an instrument of healing. It had a miraculous effect on the otherwise impervious animals, and after several of their comrades had been struck and killed, the remaining ones started to retreat.

The noises coming out of Amanda were hysterical and primal. There were occasional words coming through long strings of screaming, panting, crying, and thrashing. Sarek sunk to his knees in the mud, oblivious to his own injuries, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It… hurts… _ah_!" She was trying to sit up and was clawing at his shirt and as he drew nearer to her, she pulled herself up and threw her arms around his neck. Despite the dark, he could see trails of blood dripping from multiple wounds in her arms.

"Amanda, please lie back," he urged, trying to pull her off him. She clung more tightly. "Amanda, you may be making your injuries worse."

"Where- go- what- if they- come back?" she choked, shaking violently.

"You should allow me to treat you quickly, so that we may be gone if they do."

She remained reluctant to let him go, so his twisted his body around, stretched out his arm as far as he could, and grabbed the automatic hypospray from the medical kit. He rotated the selector around until it read _General sedative – human_ , guessed her mass to be approximately fifty kilograms, and stuck the device in the crook of her neck. She flinched, but her body very quickly started to go slack.

"Everything hurts so bad," she muttered as he extracted himself from her grip.

He laid her head on the ground as gently as he could manage and watched her eyes begin to roll back into her head. He would need to work quickly—she was losing a lot of blood and the temperature was growing colder.

He stole a quick glance to the perch from where she'd fallen and reasoned a fall from such a height might have caused damage beyond a broken leg. Sarek had received a reasonable foundation in most scientific disciplines, including biology, but that was not equivalent to legitimate medical expertise. He could do his best to repair a broken leg with a bone knitter, but he wasn't a surgeon who could piece lacerated organs back together.

A pang of fear coursed through him, but he quickly dismissed it. He would provide her with all the medical care that was in his power to give, and she would either live or she would not. If _she_ did not, _he_ most certainly would not.

Armed with this insight, he fumbled in the dark for the dermal regenerator, lowered the power settings, and quickly sealed the worst of the bite marks on her face, neck, and arms, electing to ignore his own injuries for the time being. Then he half-crawled around the other side of her body to get a better look at her leg. It took some delicate maneuvering and Amanda sluggishly yelped several times, but he managed to straighten out her leg enough that he could begin to repair the worst of the damage with the bone knitter.

It was dark and he ended up cutting away most of the trousers covering the breaks in her right leg. Her skin was pale, cold, and clammy to the touch and the areas around the two obvious breaks were already quite swollen. She moaned and mumbled through most of it, mercifully drifting in and out of consciousness. It was better that she not fully perceive the worst of his unskilled attempts to repair her leg, but her brief forays into wakefulness provided Sarek with reassurance that she was still alive.

Getting her back to the pod proved to be a far more unpleasant, far more exhausting endeavor than treating her broken leg. She was only semi-conscious and in no condition to walk, so he managed to get her up the steep slope by tying her hands together, draping them around his neck, and hoisting her up by using exposed roots as handholds. Amanda weighed only a fraction of what he did, but she was completely unable to assist in her evacuation and he was still quite weak from his ordeal in orbit of the planet, and so when he reached the top of the ridge, he slumped into a sitting position and tried to catch his breath. Amanda's head rolled along his chest.

"Wha-uh-eeeeeeeee…" she muttered, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He looked down and saw she was still bleeding from some of the animal bites. Sarek did not bother wasting time by untying her hands. Instead, he readjusted the medical kit straps on his back, bent down, and scooped her up into his arms and proceeded through the forest as quickly as possible.

She was so cold and her body so limp that he feared she was already dead, but he reasoned there was nothing to be gained by stopping to check, so he pushed himself harder and arrived back at the escape pod in remarkable time. The pod's automatic lights bathed the both of them, illuminating a shocking scene.

Almost every visible centimeter of her skin was either covered in her blood, his blood, or brown-black mud. Rather than stop to reflect on how much blood he'd lost fending off the vicious animals by the pond, he set her down gently in the middle of the floor and said, "Increase ambient air temperature to thirty-five degrees Celsius."

He thought about washing his hands, but decided there was no logic in attempting to maintain hygienic standards now, not when both of them were already so filthy and their wounds likely contaminated already. What he did next, he did only out of sheer necessity. There was no pleasure or comfort in stripping a broken, dying woman of her muddy wet clothes. Her shirt came away easily by simply tearing it in half and when he did, he exposed an undergarment covering her breasts that had probably once been white, but was now discolored by dirty water and blood.

The animals had taken several bites out of her petite breasts, and it was with severely quaking hands that he gently slid the fabric out of the way to mend the bite marks. Amanda stammered a barely audible phrase and he instantly recoiled, not eager for her to regain consciousness and find him leaning over her half naked body.

Her head rolled to the side and she babbled, " _Ahla… ah…_ "

"Amanda?" he asked, sitting back on his haunches. "Can you hear me?"

" _I love you_ ," she declared lethargically.

It was so quiet he wasn't certain he'd heard her correctly, but she repeated it a second time and a third, and he decided she was delirious. Her skin was still cold, and though he didn't know what the typical basal body temperature of a human woman should be, he was confident she was hypothermic.

It was growing quite warm in the pod—not warm by any traditional Vulcan standard, but certainly warmer than outside. Artificially heating the interior through the deuterium power cell would quickly drain their energy reserves, but it was a necessary expense to keep her alive. Even still, he collected the neatly folded blankets from his side of the pod and placed them over the upper half of her body, not only to preserve her modesty, but also to sustain his focus.

Next he consulted the emergency care program on the medical tricorder for information on how best to proceed. He input the parameters—an adult human woman with a broken leg, suspected hypothermia, and moderate blood loss, and simply followed the care instructions. To his great discomfort, he was forced to strip her down to her underwear to fully assess the compound fractures to her right leg and check for any other swelling and discoloration on her back, abdomen, and other leg.

He properly reset her right leg as best as he could and spent nearly an hour with the bone knitter, doing his best to keep her leg free of deformity. Then per the tricorder's guidance, he administered a cocktail of drugs to ease her pain and fend off microbial threats, all the while checking her vital signs and endeavoring to keep her warm.

When he had done everything the tricorder recommended in the way of treatment, he wondered what was the best way to proceed. She was wearing only a wet, dirty undergarments and her face was caked with drying mud and blood. He picked up the tricorder and selected the option for continuing care instructions.

She needed to be kept warm, dry, and _clean_. Sarek stood and paced several laps around the cramped interior. Amanda needed the care of a nurse. She needed to be stripped, washed, and dressed in clean garments. Even if he were not entering pon farr, which he was, even if she had granted him her express consent, which she hadn't… this was inappropriate and awkward and a gross violation of her person. But it was _necessary_.

Sarek paced several more laps, keenly aware he was hoping she would soon wake and tend to these things for herself. She did not, but her vital signs were stable and the scan of her neural tissues indicated she was in a period of deep sleep, likely as a result of the sedative. None of his available options for assisting her further were particularly attractive.

He reasoned he could probably strip off the last vestiges of her clothing without looking at her or touching her—he could simply drape a blanket over her body and use a knife to cut them away. Re-dressing her would be a far more intimate process, but if he did not do this, she would awake without any clothing on and likely be alarmed. Which would she prefer: to regain consciousness and be completely naked, or to regain consciousness and be completely clothed, understanding that Sarek had been required to handle her naked body in order to dress her?

With shaking hands, he managed to wrap her up in her bedding and carry her to his own bed, which was cleaner and drier than hers. He did his best to avert his eyes as he transferred her onto the thin set of seat cushions he used as a mattress, then he placed a clean blanket over her, gingerly cut away her undergarments, taking great care to avoid any skin-to-skin contact, and placed two more blankets atop her. She never stirred, but her pulse remained strong and her breathing, slow and steady.

When he was done, he paced several more laps, oddly conscious of the fact that a naked woman was lying in his sleeping space. It took several minutes for him to acknowledge that his mind was relatively clear, all things considered. He held up his hands and ignoring the fact that they were covered in oozing, poorly formed scabs from the bites he'd sustained fighting off the rodent-like animals, noted that there was only a slight tremor. How curious.

A hypothesis began to form. The most common means of resolving pon farr was the taking of a mate, but there was also mediation, which he was currently attempting, and ritual combat. He had wrongly assumed ritual combat was not a viable option because there was no other male to fight, but defending Amanda against the onslaught of attacking animals had provoked a violent response. He had not wanted to hurt the creatures, but he had no other choice in the moment. Perhaps the surge of hormones associated with primal fight or flight responses could mitigate the effects of pon farr.

He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts as best as he could. His mind was not as sharp as normal, but far better than it had been in days. The confrontation may not have cured his condition, but it seemed to have slowed it.

Sarek collected the dermal regenerator and began the process of tending to his own injuries, and after giving himself a dose of antimicrobial drugs, he did his best to clean the mud he'd tracked into their shared quarters, washed himself, and changed into clean clothes.

As he'd placed Amanda in his bed, he elected to sleep in hers, which was also nothing more than a collection of seat cushions and assorted blankets. It smelled like her.

"Terminate illumination," he said in a low tone, and the cabin lights faded, leaving them shrouded in darkness.

Less than a minute later, a low moan drifted through the pod and Sarek rose from his bed to investigate her condition. Amanda was still asleep, but she had half rolled onto her injured leg and her face bore a slight frown. She twitched and whimpered, gripping the top blanket and attempting to roll over once again.

She uttered several slurred, unintelligible syllables which were drowned out by the sound of rumbling from outside. Several seconds later, there was a crash of lightning. Knowing that he would not sleep this night, he made himself comfortable by her bedside and began a playback of Carl Hornsby's logs on a low volume.

* * *

She was being boiled alive. Her mouth was full of sand and her stomach writhed from lack of food. Her head was full and too big for her body and something was wrong with her right leg.

It took longer than it should have for her to recognize that she was transitioning out of sleep and when she finally opened her eyes, she was treated to the dim overhead emergency lighting and the metal lines of the pod's ceiling. Something looked different.

She wasn't in her bed, but Sarek's, and she was… her eyes widened to a near impossible degree as she popped her head under the heap of blankets. She was _naked_. And in Sarek's bed. And covered in weird grime—what had _happened_?

The harder she thought, the more her head throbbed. Her hands instinctively rubbed the deep ache in her right thigh, which only seemed to make her more aware of the pain. She tried to swallow, but her sandpaper tongue seemed firmly glued to the roof of her mouth. This wasn't right.

Then without warning, the events of the past several days came roaring back and she almost leapt out of the bed at the memory of those awful, badger-like reptiles that had come wandering out of the pond. They had been biting her and Sarek had fought them off. He had come back for her, just like he said he would, but where was he now?

She tried to sit up, but everything about her body felt wrong. Her back ached and her ribs were sore and every time she figured out something was hurting, some other pain seemed to pop up from somewhere else. Through it all, she was hungry and thirsty and roasting under all the bedding.

How had she ended up _naked_? She a vague idea—her injuries had been severe and Sarek had probably needed to cut her clothes off to assess the extent of the damage and patch her up—but couldn't he have at least dressed her once he was done? Her mind stalled at the thought and she quickly changed course, deciding that it was better that he'd left her naked, rather than struggle to stuff her unconscious, naked body into clothes. It was only _marginally_ better, but better nonetheless.

Amanda cringed at the thought of him peeling off her bra and underwear. Despite nearly overheating in the sweltering cabin, she pulled the blankets higher up on herself. He had only done what he thought he'd had to do, _surely_ , but it was still _weird_. When she tried putting herself in his shoes, she couldn't even figure out where to start. How _awkward_ that must have been for him. She was deeply mortified, but she was also grateful.

She debated getting up and getting something to eat and drink, but just as she was working up the courage to peel back the blankets and examine the damage to her body, the hatch opened and Sarek appeared. It was pouring rain, making it difficult to determine the time of day, but if she were to guess, she'd have said it was evening. Water dripped from his raincoat and pooled on the floor, and when his eyes rested on her, she pulled the blankets up further underneath her chin.

"H-h-hey."

"Good evening," he replied, looking away from her.

Amanda licked her lips several times. "How are you?"

"I believe your condition is more important than my own."

"I uh- _yeah_. I've been better."

"Are you capable of standing?"

"I think so, but I haven't really tried yet."

"I can excuse myself so you may wash and dress in private."

"Does it really matter anymore?" she asked, intending to convey a teasing attitude of wryness and resignation.

"Your privacy is of great importance," he retorted. "I did not- I would not- I did not take any liberties- I needed to preserve your life."

Amanda laughed, wincing through the stabbing pain behind her eyes. He almost seemed like a little kid who'd gotten caught with both hands in the cookie jar. "I didn't mean to imply you did. Thank you for saving my life. I'm sorry you had to see me this way."

Sarek said nothing, and some stupid impulse prompted her to joke, "You don't have to go back outside in the rain if you don't want to. Besides, it's not like you've never seen a naked woman before anyway."

Sarek's body stiffened and his jaw clenched. She had never seen him so uncomfortable, which had a magical way of pushing her tongue to continue running ahead of her judgment. " _Have_ you?"

Amanda wanted to vomit. What was she _doing_ , asking if he'd ever seen a naked woman? "Oh, _wow_ … that was a really inappropriate question. You don't have to answer—in fact, please don't."

"Very well," he replied, turning his body away from hers.

Amanda closed her eyes, wishing she could teleport out of the situation. Then again, if she could teleport at will, none of this would have happened.

"Uh, _right_. Can you hand me some of my clothes?" she asked, trying to sit up.

"Perhaps I should wait outside until you have washed and dressed," Sarek replied, turning on his heel and opening the pod's hatch before she could even answer. She would have argued because it was raining, but in a small way, she was glad.

She threw back the blankets, horrified to see her entire right leg was one angry, purple bruise, as was most of the right side of her body. She couldn't bear much weight on her bad leg at all, which was worrisome. Bone knitters could glue together bones and make them functional, but apparently medical science had yet to devise an instrument that could take the pain out of a broken limb.

She hobbled across the cabin to her side of the room. Sarek had probably slept here, because all of her bedding was neatly folded into a pyramid-shaped pile. It made her smile and for a second, she almost thought his fastidiousness was adorable.

The first thing she did was grab a half-full canteen and down the entire thing in several swallows. Then she shuffled to the shower. It was slow-going, washing the grime from her body. Sarek had insisted they avoid using the sonic shower because it consumed so much energy, but given the current state of her hair, she couldn't see any other way around it. She tried to hurry, but everything hurt.

She so hungry and dizzy that several times she nearly blacked out in the shower, and even though it was agony to lift her arms above her head, she managed to get herself cleaned and dressed in under forty-five minutes. When she was done, she opened the hatch to discover it was still pouring, very cold, and nearly dark outside, but Sarek was nowhere to be seen.

She was in no condition to go searching for him. Searching for him was what had put her in this condition in the first place. She stared into the wet dusk, wondering what she should do, when his form appeared from around the left side of the pod. As he approached the hatch, Amanda noted the rivers of rainwater streaming down his chin and fingertips.

"Why would you wait outside in the rain?" she asked, stepping aside to allow him to cross the threshold.

"I am wearing waterproof over garments," he replied, unfastening the rain coat. "I also took shelter with the firewood."

Amanda fought the urge to touch him in some way. A part of her wanted to hug him or take his coat or do anything to show her appreciation for getting her off that muddy beach alive. Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of how frightening it had been.

Sarek didn't seem to notice her growing emotional state, or perhaps he was trying to ignore the elephant in the room. "Despite the rain throughout the day, I was able to cut more firewood and seal the interior of the firewood shelter's roof. Tomorrow I intend to begin work on a chimney structure to funnel heat into the pod."

Amanda nodded. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Approximately twenty-four hours."

" _Ah_ , well, thank you for saving my life."

"You need not express gratitude for that which was necessary to do."

"I'm- I'm sorry by the way. For interrupting your prayers or meditation or whatever. I just didn't know where you had gone and I was worried."

"I believe there have been times when you also sought the solace of solitude."

A warm blush fell across her cheeks. "That's… not untrue. We're all we've got but sometimes, it's nice to be alone."

He answered with a deferential nod.

"So then why don't we just admit that to each other then, rather than come up with excuses about collecting water or sap?"

"The truth is preferable to a deception."

"Then we're agreed? We just tell each other whenever we want a break?"

"If it will prevent you from breaking your limbs in pursuit of my location, yes."

"Was that a _joke_?" she laughed.

"I have already explained I am not in the habit of making jokes."

"Yes you have," she replied, turning around to limp over to the trunks where they were storing the ration packs, adding under her breath, " _But it doesn't mean you don't know how_."

"How would you assess the current state of your health?" Sarek asked from behind her.

"Um, I've been better? My leg isn't broken anymore, but it definitely feels like it has been. In fact, my whole body feels like I've been hit by a shuttle."

"You were fortunate not to have sustained any significant internal injuries. The ache in your leg may take some time to subside. There was substantial damage."

"But you think it _will_ get better?"

"I am not a physician and cannot say for certain, but based on my own anecdotal experience, yes. In the meantime, there are analgesics you may take to alleviate the pain."

"We should save them," she responded quickly. "My body hurts, but I can handle it for now."

They each grabbed a ration pack, chicken parmesan for Amanda and vegetable stromboli for Sarek, and sat down with their backs leaning up against the hatch wall. She tried to eat slowly, but hunger wouldn't allow it. When she had finished, she noticed Sarek had barely touched his.

"You need to eat," she said darkly, not taking her eyes off the ration pack in his hands.

"Yes," he replied, lifting another forkful to his mouth.

"Is something on your mind?"

"According to the tricorder, the weather is not due to improve for some time."

"Then I guess we'll work in the rain."

"You are in no condition to perform strenuous labor."

Amanda swallowed hard, suddenly feeling guilty for allowing herself to be turned into dead weight. "I can't walk very far or fast, but I can still sit and dig root cellars with a trowel, or dig for vegetables."

"I urge you to remain in the safety of the pod. Your reduced mobility makes you vulnerable and as the events of last night have demonstrated, there is much we do not know about the dangers of this planet."

"It's a Catch-22 though, isn't it? I can either risk getting eaten by a horde of vicious little animals or I can slowly starve to death. Several seconds after finishing her sentence, her stomach audibly growled. "We can't keep going like this, with so little food. No one could survive like this."

"I disagree."

Amanda canted her head to look him in the eye. Something about his assertion was irritating. "You _do_? Are you some kind of expert on survival? Tell me, astrophysicist diplomat who grew up on an estate, have you ever _really_ had to survive?"

"Yes, during the kahs-wan ritual of my adolescence and again during the Rite of Tal'oth just prior to reaching adulthood."

He spoke plainly, as if his confession should somehow settle the matter. Amanda scoffed. "You're going to have to elaborate on that a little bit."

"Both are ancient rites of passage for young Vulcans. The kahs-wan remains common, the Rite of Tal'oth does not. Both are designed to test physical and mental endurance and resilience. During the kahs-wan, the individual is left to survive for ten days in the wilderness with only a ritual blade."

"You said it was a test of adolescence. How old were you?"

"I was nine years of age when I underwent the kahs-wan, and twenty-two when I performed the Rite of Tal'oth."

"You were _nine_? Wandering around in the woods with only a knife? What did your _parents_ say?"

"I was not in a forest: I was in Vulcan's Forge. And my parents favored the idea, as they had undergone the kahs-wan when they were children, as did their parents before them."

"You were trying to survive all on your own at the age of nine and your parents were happy about this?" Amanda's mind was reeling. She'd enjoyed camping with her dad when she was nine, but she couldn't imagine being dumped in Yellowstone and told to "do her best" for ten days with only a knife.

"I cannot understand why you so often find it difficult to believe what I say. Do you think me untrustworthy?"

"No, I- it's just- it seems _extreme_."

"After adopting logic, the Vulcan race took measures to ensure we were not made soft by non-violent tenets. Very few children are lost during the kahs-wan. The same cannot be said for the Rite of Tal'oth, which is why it is less regularly performed."

"How is it different?" she asked, taking a sip of water from the canteen.

"Rather than spending only ten days in the harsh climate of the Forge, I endured 112 days."

Amanda spit water and began to choke. Sarek leaned forward and examined her closely, but she waved her hands to indicate that she was fine.

"I'm fine," she coughed, taking another swig of water. "And sorry for this next incredulous question, but you're telling me you spent nearly _four months_ wandering around a desert just to prove you could survive?"

"Yes," he replied. "And those experiences have provided valuable insight in my effort to survive here. This planet is far less hostile and has far more abundant resources than Vulcan's Forge.

Amanda rubbed her forehead and tried to keep from laughing hysterically. It just didn't make sense, the idea of this prim and proper man living like some kind of Vulcan Grizzly Adams. But he _had_ said he used to do martial arts, and then she thought about the way he'd fought off the animals by the pond, the way he'd kept pace with her despite broken ribs and collarbones, and the ease with which he seemed to exist in this rugged place. It was ludicrous, but it also made sense.

Sarek was bland and wise, but he was also apparently made of grit and guts, and something about that made him instantly attractive. She folded the ration pack in half, set it in her lap, and idly massaged her right leg. Out of nowhere, she was shy and self-conscious, and she hated it.

"I just wanted to thank you again, for _everything,_ " she mumbled. You saved my from being eaten alive. You saved my life."

"You have saved mine on a prior occasion."

"Are we keeping score?" she asked, her heart starting to beat faster.

"It would be illogical to convert life-saving actions into a form social currency. My survival is enhanced by your survival, just as your survival is partially dependent on mine."

"So you only saved me because you thought of it as saving yourself?"

"No."

Amanda frowned, thinking of the night she'd found him trapped in the escape pod. Hunting him down and getting him out of that pod had been driven in some part by selfishness—she didn't want to be alone—but it had also been motivated by a desire to not let someone _die_. It was basic decency. And even though there had been times over the past few days when she'd wished Sarek had never shown up, she could also safely say she was grateful he was here.

"Well, thank you all the same," she said at long last. "I'm lucky to have you here."

Sarek remained silent, which made Amanda feel even more awkward. "If there's anything I can ever do for you, anything at all, just let me know."

She saw his demeanor change out of the corner of her eye and looked down to see he had rested the half-eaten ration pack in his lap in an effort to steady his shaking hands.

"Are you ok?"

"Ok is an imprecise term."

"Alright then, your hands are shaking again. Are you sick?"

"No," he answered briskly. "I am overtired and in need of meditation."

She nodded, even if she didn't entirely believe him. "Maybe we should both go to bed."

"Yes."

"Which bed though? Have we officially switched sides of the pod or-"

"I placed you in my bed because it was dry and clean."

"I figured as much," she said, struggling to her feet and hobbling in the direction of her nest of seat cushions and blankets. "I have to admit though, it was kind of a shock to wake up naked in your bed."

She couldn't see his face, but his tone gave her a good indication that it was probably steely and resolute when he said, "It would be immoral to dishonor an unconscious woman."

Amanda blushed and didn't dare to look back at him. "I would never accuse you of being anything other than a perfect gentleman. In fact, I was trying to admit that I understand how weird that must have been for you, to take care of me when I was like that. So thank you."

After several seconds of silence he answered, "You are welcome."

Amanda unfolded her blankets and eased herself into the bed. Less than a minute later, Sarek rose to his feet and shut out the lights, and then they both spent the next hours wide awake and unspeaking in the dark. There seemed to be so much to say, but it also seemed like neither of them knew where to start.


	12. The Unexpected

**Arg-117P: Day 23**

Amanda pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and went back to lazily stirring the stew of vegetables over the open flame of the campfire. A _clang_ and a loud _ooooof_ rang out from behind her and she flipped around to see Sarek had dropped the outer panel of the pod on the tops of his feet.

"Are you ok?" she asked, hurrying over to him as fast as she could on her right leg, which was still tender.

"I do not believe I have sustained serious injuries," he replied. Amanda wasn't sure she believed him, based on the pained expression on his face.

"Why don't you come sit down and rest?" she urged, trying to lift and reposition the panel to lean against the side of the pod.

"It will be nightfall soon and I would prefer not to leave a sizable hole in the side of our shelter."

Amanda sighed and nodded. "Is there any way at all I can help you?"

He blinked and glanced away, only to reply in a monotone voice just moments later, "My work is nearly complete. Please, return to preparing end meal."

End meal. What a peculiar term.

Amanda stepped back and glanced at the chimney he'd spent the past four days building along the side of the pod before returning to her previous task. He had pulled several of the upper panels out to make a hole and had built a rock structure around it with a hole at the bottom facing outward half a meter off the ground. They would have to go outside to feed firewood into it, but now they would be able to heat the pod without relying on their dwindling deuterium supplies.

All that seemed to remain for him to do was replace the two outer panels of the pod flanking the hole for the chimney and seal the gap between the rocks and the pod's exterior, but four days of hauling rocks from a muddy creek bottom had exacted a steep physical toll on him. Amanda hadn't been able to help much because her leg was still quite bruised and sore and it almost caused her even more pain to think of how Sarek was nearly killing himself just so they could stay warm.

The past few days had cast Sarek in a very different light as far as Amanda was concerned. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that he'd gone from being some stuffy guy with a sharp haircut to a rugged, handsome hero, but once the idea had been planted in her mind, it refused to go away. The harder she tried to convince herself that she wasn't attracted to him, the more attractive he became.

She knew, she just _knew_ her little crush had to be some kind of consequence of the fact that he had saved her life and also perhaps that he was literally the _only_ man on the planet, but when she allowed herself to consider Sarek as a person, there was a lot to like under that very dry personality.

Sarek was clearly very intelligent, resourceful, and capable. He almost didn't seem real. How could anyone be an astrophysicist _and_ a diplomat who also liked martial arts and playing the Vulcan harp-thing _and_ someone who also just so happened to be good at building waterproof firewood shelters and chimneys? And he was in _damn_ good shape, all things considered. The more she put the pieces of him together, the more appealing, and _intimidating_ , he became.

This developing and unscheduled infatuation was making her review all her previous interactions with him and in hindsight most of them made her cringe. The way she had whined to him about how being stuck here was worse than prison or the way she'd sneered at him and questioned his survival skills.

Her mind drifted back and forth, probing the boundaries of her interest in Sarek and wishing she could convince herself she felt nothing. Just as afternoon faded into dusk, he sat down on one of the large logs they had turned into informal chairs and slowly rubbed his hands. Even in the dwindling light, Amanda could see they were chapped and raw from days of continuous masonry work.

"Are you done with the chimney?" she asked, glancing at the pod.

"The seal is inadequate for the winter, but it is sufficient for the night. I will finish it tomorrow."

"The vegetables are ready," Amanda announced, poking one of the swollen tubers and watching it bulge. "At least, I _think_ so. I couldn't exactly find any recipes for Arg-117P onions."

"It is sustenance and that is sufficient," he replied, rising to his feet to collect a bowl from her.

It was Amanda who took the first bite, and while it wasn't exactly vomit-inducing, it was far from anything she'd _want_ to eat. She scowled and popped another of the yellow, carrot-like vegetables in her mouth and avoided looking at Sarek. Even though she had no experience cooking these vegetables and even though her access to spices was non-existent and even though she only had two pots and regular utensils to cook with, she felt very self-conscious about the way it had turned out. Being able to collect food and prepare this meal was really the only contribution she'd made in the past several days and she she had ruined it.

They had plenty of rations left, but Amanda had suggested eating more of the food they were collecting, now that they had two storage containers full of the stuff. Sarek had declared it logical—the rations had a shelf-life of nearly a hundred years while the vegetables might last several months in the retrofitted root cellars—and so that night had been the first time she'd tried her hand at cooking some of it.

Bite by bite she forced it down and eventually Sarek also picked up his fork and began eating, but Amanda felt torn between asking what he thought and apologizing for how terrible it was. She watched him as casually as she could and was unable to register any general displeasure in his face, but then again, he never expressed any kind of satisfaction in his meals.

Amanda bit her lip and stuffed another of the onions in her mouth, concentrating on anything but the mealy food in an effort to avoid gagging. Four swift chews and a swallow and she took a long swig from her canteen to wash it down.

"Will we be able to use the chimney tonight, do you think?"

"It is inadvisable until I have made a final assessment of the chimney's stability and the airflow through it," he replied, not looking at her.

"And once we're done with the chimney, then what?"

"It is logical for you to continue collecting food while I cut firewood."

"I can split logs too," Amanda replied.

"I believe you can, but it is more logical for you to see to our food stores."

"How is it more logical?"

"I have greater strength and physical stamina than you and your leg is not yet healed."

Amanda clenched her jaw and allowed her cheeks to burn—it's not like he would noticed in the pale twilight.

"I just want to feel like I'm contributing."

"You are contributing," he answered swiftly. "Sustenance is essential for survival."

"No kidding," Amanda replied, glancing at the bowl of food in his hands that he'd barely touched. Was he not eating because he ate so little anyway or because the vegetables were really that terrible?

She managed to gulp down the rest of her food and waited for Sarek to do the same. He seemed to sense she was waiting for him to finish, so he ate quickly and without complaint as Amanda lumped mud over the coals of the campfire to extinguish it. They followed each other inside without uttering a single word, set the dishes in the box by the door, and readied themselves for bed.

The idea of going to bed when it got dark was so laughable, but there wasn't much else to do and these days she perpetually lived in a state somewhere between tired and exhausted. Sarek excused himself to the lavatory to wash up while Amanda scrubbed the dinner dishes and tried to keep from thinking about how dreadful she probably looked and smelled.

They had installed a bucket in the lavatory with one of the water containers for bathing purposes, but the lavatory was only the size of a large closet and the bucket only held five liters of water. It was enough to soak a rag with a little bit of soap and run it over the armpits and other problem areas, but it was a far cry from _bathing_.

" _My kingdom for a sonic shower_ ," she grumbled to herself, using her fingernail to scrape starch from the inside of the pot. She glanced toward her side of the pod and her scowl deepened as she added, " _And my soul for a comfortable bed_."

To be entirely fair, she'd lived in worse conditions before. During one of her last camping trips to Yellowstone with her father, she'd been forced to dig a little trench behind her sleeping bag to keep cold water runoff from trickling into it and soaking her during the night. She'd still gotten wet and come close to hypothermia, but her dad had said such experiences built character.

Maybe they did, but how much character could a girl build doing it for the rest of her life? Amanda surveyed the pod. It definitely was an upgrade from the rugged backpacking vacations of more than a decade ago, but at least those had had a definite end. She could handle going a week without a proper shower or a soft mattress, but doing it for the rest of her life was a tough pill to swallow.

It occurred to her she was being negative again and she tried to train her thoughts on more positive things, but there weren't a lot of overwhelmingly great things to focus on. What she needed was some kind of brief cathartic escape, like a movie or a book or _anything_ to mentally transport her out of this mess, even if just for a few hours.

The pod had had a decent movie selection, but Sarek probably wouldn't agree to burn more of their precious deuterium reserves for entertainment. Then she remembered her PADD. It had an independent power cell with a 4,500 hour battery life, but more importantly, in addition to the Federation encyclopedia, it had come equipped with a small library of preinstalled books, films, songs, and games.

Amanda had only really ever used it for correspondence and keeping up with the news and on the rare occasion she had indulged in some form of entertainment on the device, she'd generally just streamed it from one of the networks. Streaming capabilities on Arg-117P were somewhat limited—limited as in non-existent—but maybe there was something halfway watchable in the library.

She flipped the dishes upside down to allow them to dry and sifted through her belongings for the handheld device and upon finding it, flipped the cover over to discover it was still on an informational page about ka'athyras. The little power bar in the top right corner read fifty-three percent. A little quick math told her she had about a hundred days of battery power left, if she left it on continuously.

She was thumbing through the selection of pre-installed movies when the lavatory door opened, revealing Sarek in a set of clean black clothes and carrying a bucket of dirty water. He dumped it outside and refilled it for Amanda, who hauled it into the tiny lavatory. She collected some clean-ish clothes and her bar of soap and shut herself inside, taking a slow breath to revel in the idea of solitude for the next several minutes.

Amanda was torn between being eager and reluctant to strip off her clothes. She was filthy and wanted to get herself clean, but clothes also hid the sight of her rapidly deteriorating body. When she finally did muster up the will to pull her shirt over her head, she couldn't help but gawk at what was reflected back at her in the small rectangular mirror over the sink.

Deep bruises remained all over her torso from her fall, but her ribs were also protruding more and more with each passing day. Her mother was the type of person who was always advocating some new diet every few months, but apparently nothing beat good old-fashioned starving. She pinched the flesh over her left hip and swore that if she ever made it off this awful planet alive, she would never complain about cellulite or barely perceptible jiggling ever again.

Gritting her teeth, she peeled her trousers off and glared at the wreckage of her right leg which was an impressive display of colors one might see in a Mardi Gras parade. Soft hair had sprouted on her thighs and calves. It was such a vain thing, to want to strip her body of hair that naturally grew there, and though she'd never thought of herself has overly obsessed with her appearance, a large part of her wanted to just feel normal again.

She collected her washcloth and dipped it into the water. It was freezing and the prospect of smearing it all over her body repelled her, but so too did the vicious odor emanating from her armpits. She rubbed the soap through the cloth to make a lather, but it slipped through her hands and bounced off the floor. The location it settled in forced Amanda to duck down on her hands and knees to retrieve it, and when she did, she found a pair of steel loops in the floor beside the toilet. She pulled and twisted and a clicking sound released a box from the floor about forty centimeters wide and long.

Most of the supply boxes had been neatly embedded in the walls and floors in a similar manner, but it surprised her that she'd managed to overlook this one for so long. She flipped the lid and nearly laughed. Cans of deodorant spray, feminine hygiene products, floss, UV teeth cleaners, and laser razors greeted her.

She sat down on the toilet and examined her left leg and without skipping a beat, began shearing away the soft, dark hair.

* * *

His thoughts swirled around in a nebulous cloud. Intensive meditation permitted him moments of clarity, but they were becoming more rare with each passing day. He had not been able to control his emotions for some time now. At best, he could merely conceal them by training his face into a neutral expression. He wondered whether his rapidly declining condition was noticeable to Amanda.

He had supposed he had several months before pon farr would claim his life, but now he was suspecting he had made an overestimation. His symptoms were simply too severe.

A loud _clang_ from the lavatory startled him and in a moment of inattention, he allowed his upper lip to curl in annoyance. Amanda had been in there for a considerable length of time. Surely washing and dressing should not take forty-five minutes? It was illogical to be irritated by this—he had already performed his hygiene ritual—and yet he was.

He clenched his hands into fists and winced. Four days of masonry work had left their mark on his fingers. He'd first had to dig the rocks out of the nearby creek bed, carry them back to their camp, and assemble them into the chimney structure. His fingers were sore beyond comprehension and he suspected most of the tendons and ligaments in them were strained or torn. He had barely been able to hold his fork at dinner. Not that he was hungry much these days anyway, due to the appetite suppression caused by pon farr.

He was contemplating how best to mend them with a dermal regenerator—in order to use a handheld dermal regenerator, he needed at least one good hand—when Amanda appeared in the lavatory doorway, looking happier than she had in the entire time he'd known her.

"Is everything ok?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes." It seemed strange she would ask such a thing.

She moved to her side of the pod without saying another word while Sarek located the dermal regenerator in the medical kit. His hands were so battered he had great difficulty pulling it from the padded hole where it was stored, but eventually he managed it. He sat down on his bed and searched through the settings to find the necessary parameters for ligament repair when he noticed a bright, blue light appear from Amanda's side of the pod.

She was gazing at her PADD and scrolling her finger along its screen. After nearly a minute, she seemed to become aware he was watching her and tilted her head in his direction.

"Is the light bothering you? I can turn it off."

"It is not," he replied, troubled to discover he'd been staring at her.

"I thought I would try and watch a movie," she added. "I can turn on the subtitles so it doesn't make sound and keep you awake."

"That is not necessary," he replied reflexively.

"Would you like to watch it with me then?"

He had little interest in popular human entertainment forms, but her proposal piqued his interest. His fracturing logic had left him vulnerable to a wide array of symptoms, from agitation to uncontrollable sexual arousal. But perhaps most curious was a sense of growing boredom. He'd stayed occupied from the moment he stepped foot on Arg-117P, but the nature of the work was mundane and far from mentally stimulating. Realizing Amanda was expecting an answer, he gave a small nod of his head.

Amanda chuckled. " _Seriously_?"

He raised an eyebrow, which made Amanda hold her hands up innocently and say, "Yes, yes I know. I need to stop being so surprised by your answers."

"What is the function of asking a question if one is unwilling to believe the answer?"

"So would you like to watch a movie or not?" 

"I believe I already assented. I do not object to exploring this form of entertainment."

Amanda grinned. "Ok then. What kind of movies do you like?"

"Is there anything informational?"

"Like a documentary? Um… here's the first season of Tyson Beck's _Food Travels_."

"Could you provide a brief summary?"

"It's this human guy with a crazy handlebar mustache who goes all over the Federation, trying different local dishes. The synopsis of the first episode has him eating Andorian ice slugs, which sounds gross, but then again, I'm so hungry I could probably eat a whole plateful of Andorian ice slugs right about now."

"Then perhaps we should try something else."

"There's not a whole lot," she sighed. "It's a bunch of cheesy romcoms from the mid-to-late 21st century, some action movies dating all the way back to _1987_ , a lot of sequels that should have never been made, and a few standup comedy specials I can almost guarantee aren't funny, just looking at the pictures of the comedians."

"Standup comedy?"

"Yeah, people get on a stage and just tell jokes and try to make people laugh. Real illogical stuff."

"Very well, what precisely is a _rom-com_?"

"A romantic comedy. They often end up being more predictable than romantic or funny."

"What do you recommend?"

"That's just it—there's not a whole lot that I'm really excited about. Well, hang on. Here's the 2185 remake of _Jane Eyre_. It was right before they started making holomovies."

"As it is the only program you have not expressed outright derision for, perhaps we should observe it."

Amanda smiled and pressed a button before looking around nervously. "It's a pretty small screen: should I come over there and sit by you or would you prefer to come over here?"

"I have no preference."

He watched as Amanda flipped over one of the empty boxes by the door and propped the PADD up by his bedside, then dragged the seat cushions and blankets that comprised her bed over next to his. Sarek was already regretting consenting to this and he very nearly told her he would be content to merely listen to the audio when she flopped down and leaned back on her elbows. She was only a meter away, but that was closer than he would have preferred.

Wild instincts began to surge through him and he found himself growing aroused, so he pinched the knuckle of his thumb to elicit a pain response in an effort to curb his physical excitement. The movie began and he stared at the small, twenty centimeter screen, determined to keep his mind on the cinematic feature rather than on more crude concerns.

 _Jane Eyre_ turned out to be the biographical account of a woman who endured a harsh childhood in a school run by a cruel headmaster. Humans had often critiqued Vulcan educational methods as stark and severe, but Vulcans would not use physical violence against a child in order to force compliance. Upon graduating, Jane Eyre later became a private tutor to the daughter of a well-to-do aristocrat. The clothing the characters wore, particularly the women, was most peculiar and unlike any he was accustomed to seeing on modern Earth, but Amanda had indicated this film was produced in 2185, so perhaps that was how humans dressed in the late 22nd century.

"You're frowning. Do you hate _Jane Eyre_ that much?"

"Hatred is illogical, but I do find it rather curious that someone thought to document this woman's life when she is objectively quite ordinary."

Amanda threw back her head and laughed. "Jane Eyre wasn't a real person. At least, I don't think so. Maybe Charlotte Brontë based her off a real person, but this is a fictional story."

"If it is fictional, what is the intended moral?"

"Um, I don't know. It explores a lot of themes about life in the nineteenth century. The lack of women's rights, the tragedy of loving someone you can never have..."

"I see."

He saw her prepare to say something else, but she bit her lip and turned back to the screen. The simple act of watching her upper teeth play at her lower lip caused his arousal to return, and so Sarek once again turned to pain to try and subdue it.

He picked up the forgotten dermal regenerator and began the task of repairing his hands, but it was slow and painful work. He noticed Amanda glance at him several times before she finally asked, "Can I help you? That looks kind of hard with two bad hands."

"I do not require assistance."

"I didn't ask if you _required_ it; it looks like you could use it."

"No, thank you."

"Please, let me help you," Amanda sighed. "I've been feeling so useless the past few days. I can handle a dermal regenerator and there's no sense in being stubborn."

What happened next was partly surreal and entirely captivating. She politely confiscated the device from his left palm, checked the settings, then held out her right hand, indicating that he should set his own hand within her grasp. He wanted to refuse, he _needed_ to refuse, but desire compelled him to comply. The moment their hands touched, a warm, extremely pleasurable sensation spread outward from his hand to the rest of his body. It was similar to ozh'esta but far more defined, which filled him with euphoria and profound panic.

He _wanted_ her. He wanted to touch her, to meld with her, to be inside of her. This developing want started to metamorphose into need, and when he started leaning forward, Amanda stiffened.

"Is everything ok?" she asked softly.

Their eyes met and he was greeted by her kind, mildly curious expression. She was beautiful. A lifetime passed in the ten second that they sat that way, staring at each other with his hand clasped between hers. The distance between them seemed to be narrowing, but fortunately, Amanda squeezed his hand slightly, causing just enough pain to return him to his senses. He ripped his hand away from hers and shook it, desperate to make the lingering sensation of ozh'esta stop.

"Did I hurt you?" she stammered. "I'm sorry, I-"

Sarek glanced over at Jane Eyre, which was still playing on Amanda's PADD, only to find her locked in a tight embrace with Mr. Rochester. He leapt to his feet and headed for the door of the pod.

"Sarek?" Amanda called after him.

" _Leave me_ ," he snarled, smashing his fist on the hatch release.

Pain flooded his right hand, but he paid little attention. What he had nearly done was unforgivable. He had nearly forced himself upon an unsuspecting human woman. He needed to remove himself from her presence, for her sake if for nothing else.

"Sarek?" Amanda cried again.

He lengthened his stride. Where was he going? It did not matter, so long as he was away from her. He was several hundred meters into the muddy wheatgrass when a loud roar filled his ears, followed by a familiar clicking and chattering sound, which directly preceded a squeal and violent thrashing. A different instinct emerged, prompting Sarek to scan his surroundings for immediate danger.

Even with his sensitive ears, he could not pinpoint the source of the tumult. It sounded _extremely_ close, less than thirty meters away, but he could see nothing by the few stars visible between the clouded night sky and the grass was waist high. An animal began to scream and the swishing of the grass and Amanda's shrieks were all he could hear.

Suddenly, he saw the faint light of the interior emergency lighting of the pod in the distance and without pausing to think, sprinted in its direction. The closer he got, the louder Amanda's hysterics became. She met him about a third of the way, but he didn't stop. He pushed her back in the direction of the pod and they ran together until they reached the top of the ramp.

Momentum carried Amanda all the way to the back of the pod, where she crashed into the far wall. Sarek shut the hatch and trained his ears in the direction of the noise.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Amanda shouted, massaging her right leg.

"Quiet!"

She complied, shuffling toward his position. There was a fierce battle raging outside, approximately two hundred meters directly in front of the entrance to their pod. Perhaps some kind of predatory nocturnal animal in the throes of a hunt. The violence continued for several minutes and after a comfortable silence, Amanda whispered, "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I have sustained no obvious injuries," he replied, not looking at her.

"What _was_ that? What happened?"

"I did not see either the predator or the prey."

"Me either, but I know it was big."

"Yes."

Amanda closed her eyes and nodded. "Maybe we should go to bed."

"Yes," he agreed.

Amanda collected her PADD, pulled her bed back to her side of the pod, and laid down facing the wall. Sarek also laid down. He thought of trying to mend his hands once again with the dermal regenerator, but decided it could wait until morning. The brief encounter with fear seemed to have had a calming effect on his pon farr and it wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep.

When morning eventually came, it revealed itself to be yet another gray day, but that was not the first thing Sarek noted upon opening the hatch. Approximately two hundred meters in front of him, the blue-green grass was stained a dark color. Amanda was still asleep, but rather than wake her only to frighten her with this development, he donned his boots and went to investigate.

He noticed the tracks well before arriving at the scene. They were large, deep, and possessed three toes, similar to the ones they had seen around Carl Hornsby's shuttle. There were also countless smaller tracks. Had this animal been hunting the ground squirrels Amanda called riki tikkis? He didn't think so. The roars and screams he'd heard last night suggested that the larger animal had been the one terrified and in pain, rather than the other way around.

When he finally found the carcass, he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was a truly enormous animal that had been stripped of the majority of its flesh. It had a long snout and a jaw lined with five centimeter long canine teeth. It possessed wide, cat-like feet with three toes and impressive claws. He knew nothing of this planet's wildlife, but any reasonable person would have considered the dead creature before him as a candidate for the apex predator in nearly any ecosystem. 

There was shuffling in the grass and he sensed Amanda approaching, but he didn't turn to acknowledge her. When she reached his position, she was quiet for a long time before saying, "What do you suppose managed to bring down something like this and strip it to the bone?"

"I do not know."

At last, he turned to face her and found her complexion was whiter than he would have believed possible. Her jaw clenched and she tightly crossed her arms over her body.

"We should return to the pod and prepare to begin work for the day."

"We should start carrying the hand phasers," Amanda retorted, turning on her heel and walking toward the pod. She was shaking, but she made no mention of being afraid.

Later that morning, after patching up his hands with the dermal regenerator, Sarek resumed work on patching the hole in the side of the pod he'd created to install the chimney while Amanda continued to collect tuberous roots by the tree line. He did his best to avoid contemplating the events of the night before, how soft her hands had been and how badly he'd wanted to join minds with her. He did everything he could to push her out of his mind and had very nearly succeeded when a loud yell burst from the woods.

"Amanda?" he called back, dropping his tools and racing toward her location.

"Sarek, look!"

When he caught sight of Amanda, he saw she was standing up with one hand shielding her eyes from the brightness of the sky and the other pointing to something. He followed the line of her finger to find a bright object was hurtling through the atmosphere and appeared to be on a trajectory to land nearby.

"Do you think it's a shuttle?" she called, her face aglow with excitement. "Someone coming to get us?"

"I do not know," he called back to her, hurrying back to the pod to find the tricorder. Upon finding the instrument, he sat on the ramp while Amanda looked on in anticipation. 

" _So_?" Amanda asked after two minutes had passed.

"It is likely not a piloted shuttle," he admitted, analyzing the chemical signatures.

She uttered a quiet groan and covered her face in her hands. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to get hopeful."

"It appears to be an escape pod," he added, noting it was of a similar size and makeup to the one he'd arrived in from the _Bell_.

"Will it help us escape from this planet?" she sighed.

"Perhaps," he replied, catching her gaze.

"Really?" she gasped, slowly covering her mouth with her right hand. 

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. Why did she so often insist on refusing to believe him? "Really." 


	13. Salvation

**Arg-117P: Day 24**

"You can't go by yourself. You just can't."

Creases formed between Sarek's eyebrows. "You managed on this planet for a number of days without me—you can do so again."

"It's not a matter of being able to _manage_ , Sarek," Amanda sighed. "We're in this together. We have no idea what killed that cat-"

"We do not know that it was feline."

"Do you have to _try_ to tap dance on technicalities or does it just come naturally to you?"

Sarek blinked slowly and did not reply. It was strange how she could feel half smitten with him one moment and entirely irritated with him the next.

"You know what I mean, Sarek," she added, throwing her hands in the air. "Something mauled what was probably a dangerous predator practically on our doorstep and you want to go hiking through the forest on your own?"

"Yes."

"I won't let you."

"I do not need your permission."

"And I don't have to ask your permission to come along. You're not in charge here; you can't force me to stay behind."

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "It is logical for one of us to remain behind."

"Why? To keep someone from stealing our stuff?"

"To continue collecting food."

"What if this escape pod has food? For that matter, what if it has other supplies we could use? Who's going to help you carry those supplies back? How much does this deuterium power cell you're looking for even weigh?"

"Approximately half a kilogram. And we cannot know for certain it is an escape pod."

"You estimated there was an eighty-nine percent chance it was an escape pod from the _Bell_ , based on the readings you took on the tricorder."

"We cannot know for certain it is an escape pod," Sarek repeated, the muscles around his mouth tightening. "But if it is, it is unlikely there is any food left. It has been approximately one and a half months since the disaster aboard the _Bell_ and if that pod is carrying a survivor, they have almost certainly consumed all the food and have likely died of starvation."

"You're not really a glass half full kind of guy, are you?"

Sarek raised an eyebrow. "I do not understand your expression."

"Look, we keep going in circles on this. We're losing daylight. On the tiniest chance that it _is_ an escape pod and there _was_ a survivor in it _and_ they are still alive, they probably need help so I don't see the point in wasting time arguing over the 'logic' of why I should stay here and play house."

Amanda crossed her arms and focused on making the most stern and resolute face she could muster without venturing into caricature territory. She was about to make a comment about his running off like an awkward teenager after that weird handholding incident but she recognized it would be a bridge too far. What had that even been about, anyway?

It was like he'd been in some kind of a trance or under hypnosis or something. For a second, it almost seemed like he was going to kiss her, which given her own very complicated feelings, she probably wouldn't have refused, but _still_ … Her heart started to pound as she began to dwell on it, then she looked away, surrendering her staring contest advantage.

"I'm going to go pack," she declared.

Amanda glided into the pod, trying to act casual but feeling conflicted as to whether she had been demanding and childish or assertive and confident. She didn't _feel_ confident. _Was_ it more logical to stay behind? A Vulcan had said so, so it probably was. An idea began to form which had tried to come into existence several times before and rather than roll her eyes and dismiss it, she allowed herself to mull it over.

What if Vulcans didn't have all the answers? What if logic was just some excuse they drummed up to make other people _think_ they knew the score? The way everyone talked about them, they were so often ascribed demi-god qualities, but what if they were just like anyone else, taking their best guess and making decisions that were half-chance, with a little bit of mental math thrown in for show? She almost wondered if anyone had ever checked a Vulcan's math. What if they were just making _that_ up too, whenever one of them spouted off something like, " _There's only 12.6 percent chance of such-and-such_?"

From what Amanda could see, whether she stayed or went, there were plenty of downsides. If she stayed, Sarek would be out there all alone and last night had proven that Arg-117P's hospitality industry was more lacking than previously reported. Was she being naïve in thinking she could help protect him or was she in some way seeking his protection? Maybe it was _both_.

There was also the fact he might need help cutting through the brush or carrying back supplies. Or what if he never came back at all? It sent shivers down her spine just thinking about it, sitting in the pod for years wondering what had happened to him. Yes, it seemed safer to stick together, no matter how awkward sticking together was turning out to be.

And yet staying behind had its own charms, chiefly that she could have a bit of time and space to herself. There was the matter of collecting more food of course and getting ready for the winter, which judging from the icy wind cutting across the open field by their pod was all but here anyway. She could sleep with a roof over her head in a soft-ish bed and not worry about her skeleton being picked clean by whatever it was that went bump in the night around here.

It was that thought that settled her mind. Yes, it would be nice to sleep in a safe space and preserve the minimal comforts she currently had, but doing that would put the burden of danger squarely on Sarek's shoulders and that wasn't fair. Her father had never let her sit idle in a warm tent when the fire needed to be tended—Graysons pulled their weight and earned their keep.

Twenty minutes later, both of them had rucksacks sitting at their feet and were standing at the top of the pod's ramp. An entire conversation took place through a coordinated series of brow raises, flared nostrils, and pursed lips—Sarek's left eyebrow asking if they were really doing this and Amanda's tight-lipped frown confirming that they very much were.

Sarek seemed ready to step off when Amanda stopped him. "Did you pack the hand phasers?"

"No," he replied.

"Don't you think we should take them?"

"I have never used one," Sarek answered. "Are you familiar with such tools?"

"Well, no, but how hard can they be to use?"

"The difficulty in utilizing them is irrelevant. There is no logic in brandishing a weapon one is not trained to operate."

"I think you literally just turn them on, point, and shoot."

"Have you any combat training?"

"No. I'm a sixth grade teacher. Why would I have combat training?"

"You seem to have sufficient survival skills. I had considered it a possibility that perhaps you had served a term in Starfleet or in a Terran auxiliary corps."

No statement in the history of statements had ever floored Amanda quite like this one. She wasn't sure that he intended it as a compliment and she wasn't sure if she intended to take it as one, but it certainly wasn't an _insult_. Sarek thought she had survival skills. "Sufficient" wasn't exactly a glowing adjective, but coming from a Vulcan it seemed like high praise. Apparently he thought enough of her skills that he could have mistaken her for a veteran of Starfleet. It took effort not to smile and puff out her chest.

"I used to go camping a lot with my dad. He taught me things."

"Did he teach you tactical maneuvers? Did he teach you how to positively identify a target?"

Amanda made a small face. "No. He taught me how to tie knots and build fires and forage for edible plants. How are tactical maneuvers relevant to us carrying these hand phasers? I could understand it maybe if we were expecting to be ambushed by Klingons, but we seem to be all alone here, except for some very scary wildlife which I'm pretty sure aren't walking around armed."

"It is relevant," Sarek interrupted.

"How?"

"The ability to move and make judgments about potential targets is not only a viable strategy of offensive warfare, but is also essential to maintaining personal safety. I have been trained in certain personal combat techniques, but none that involved ranged weapons, such as these hand phasers, and that is training enough to know that I am not trained for this. If we carry weapons we are not adequately prepared to use, we are far more likely to be a danger to ourselves and each other than any predators."

"You think I'm going to shoot you in the back?"

"The thought had occurred to me, as a course of accident rather than design."

It gave Amanda pause. What if she had had a phaser last night when she'd thought Sarek was being attacked by some kind of animal? It had been so dark and she'd been shaking so hard. The incident had occurred more than two hundred meters away—could she have aimed that far, in the dark, with violently trembling hands? She was beginning to see his point and yet…

"I guess I would just feel safer with one."

"Safety has no regard for your feelings."

Amanda was about to argue that she'd seen him adjust a bone knitter to shoot at those weird rodents that had been attacking her, and that certainly hadn't seemed very safe, but they could argue while the walked. "Let's just go."

"The food stores are secured?" Sarek asked, just as Amanda stepped onto the ramp.

She halted but didn't turn to face him. "They are."

"And your leg-"

"I wouldn't be coming along if I thought I couldn't keep up or if I knew I was going to be dead weight."

"The object is 121.7 kilometers away."

"We'll make it. Not in one day, especially in the shape we're in, but we'll make it." She very nearly added under her breath, " _Or maybe we'll be mangled by scary animals in the night and wish we had a phaser to defend ourselves_ ," but she managed to hold her tongue. "What does the weather look like for the next week?"

"The tricorder can only estimate the next three days with any sufficient degree of accuracy. Clouds and light precipitation are expected. Temperatures will fluctuate between three degrees Celsius at night and twelve degrees during the day."

"I've camped in worse."

Sarek's left eyebrow rose to a height she might have previously believed impossible. She shot him a heavy-lidded gaze and said, "I didn't get dropped off in the desert with only the clothes on my back, but I can handle a long hike and a snowstorm."

They were barely two hours into their journey when Amanda began to doubt herself. She had been on significantly reduced rations for the past two weeks and it was showing. The straps of the rucksack weighed on her shoulders and in her mind it seemed to weigh double what it probably did. Her muscles were slow and heavy and whenever they stopped for water or to check the tricorder—which was rarely—her calves twitched and tingled and very nearly shook.

Worst of all was her leg. The bone had healed well enough and was probably stronger than it had been before, but it throbbed in a way that made her think she'd broken it all over again. It was hard not to believe Sarek was slowing his pace for her, and it became impossible to believe when he stopped at the base of a hilly slope and announced, "We have only traveled thirteen kilometers."

"How long have we been walking?" Amanda asked, trying to disguise the fact she was very nearly out of breath.

"Three hours."

Amanda had been convinced it had been at least four and it took immeasurable effort to keep her face from expressing her dismay. They were well off-pace, assuming the average human could comfortably walk about five kilometers per hour. Granted, they were walking over uneven terrain and carrying rucksacks and occasionally needed to stop and check their position, but at the rate they were going, it would take them almost four days to reach the pod and they didn't have enough food for an eight day round trip.

Sarek only confirmed her suspicions by saying, "If we continue at our current pace, we will cover approximately twenty-one more kilometers before dusk."

"I guess we'll just have to walk faster," she said, summoning her ailing motivation. The truth was, she'd been putting everything she had into keeping up and the thought of having to pick up the pace was only adding to her burden.

Amanda leaned forward and bounced to lift the rucksack higher onto her shoulders and relieve the strain on her back, but Sarek was already ascending the hill. She climbed after him, feeling the heat of blisters forming on her heels and pinky toes. It would have been easy to wallow in self-pity but stubbornness drove her forward. She couldn't admit to Sarek that he'd been right and that she was in poor shape to be making this journey.

It wasn't the sharp ache between her shoulders or the pain shooting up her right leg or the blisters or the malnourishment doing the most damage to her pace, it was boredom. Dwelling on her discomfort was making everything seem much worse. Once upon a time on a hike like this, she would have talked with her dad, sang songs, or listened to stories on the speaker her dad carried in his ruck. Unfortunately, she had no such speaker system and Sarek was the worst conversationalist she'd ever met.

Her next thought nearly made her laugh out loud. He might not be one for small talk, but what could he do if she felt like belting out some traditional campfire songs?

" _I've been working on the railroad, all the livelong day_ ," she whispered, thrusting her weight forward to propel herself up the hill. " _I've been working on the railroad, just to pass the time away_."

Sarek had stopped and was staring at her, his mouth slightly open, which she supposed was the Vulcan equivalent of a jaw drop. Had he heard her? Of course he probably had. With ears like that, he could probably hear a flea fart. She moseyed past him and continued her tune, but it was a tune in name only. " _Can't you hear the whistle blowing, rise up so early in the morn_?"

The look on his face as she passed by him was one of unmistakable shock and bewilderment. No doubt he was thinking she'd lost her mind. Well, maybe she _had_. She was well into the chorus of " _fie fi fiddly I oh, fie fi fiddly I oh oh oh oh_ " when he caught up to her again.

She was out of breath when she reached the top of the hill but she felt exultant. She studied the sloping meadow below and was about to suggest to Sarek that they veer to the left when he stopped behind her and asked, "What was the purpose of your performance?"

She sucked on her lower lip. "To raise the spirits."

"Are you referring to necromancy?"

She shook her head. "You make the best jokes without even trying."

"It was not a joke."

"Yes, I know. It just sounded like you were making fun of my singing."

"You do appear to have some difficulty in perceiving differences in pitch."

"Then sing along and help me carry the tune."

His furrowed brow and slightly narrowed eyes were suggestive of utter disgust—for a Vulcan anyway. "I am unfamiliar with the lyrics."

"I can teach you."

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "Anyway, I was thinking we should pull to the left. The right might be shorter, but the terrain-"

"I concur," he said stiffly, pulling on the bottoms of the rucksack straps to tighten them and stepping off in a westerly direction.

Amanda rolled her eyes and followed. She got through several more songs, including a rousing rendition of "Git Along Little Dogies" and "Old King Cole." She sang quietly at first but more confidently as time wore on and was badly butchering the lyrics to "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" when Sarek halted, looked over his shoulder and said, "Please, stop."

"What's wrong?"

"Your vocalizations are making it difficult to maintain my focus."

"I know you hate my singing, but what do you have to focus on? The tricorder? I can carry it-"

"Physical discomfort."

Amanda faltered. "What about it?"

"You had asked what required my focus," he explained. "I am focusing on coping with the physical discomfort of this journey."

She would have been less stunned if he did a cartwheel. So he wasn't invincible after all. It had actually never even occurred to her that Sarek might be struggling too, but it made sense: he'd arrived on the planet half starving and then jumped straight into doing the most physical manual labor imaginable. He'd chopped wood and built the latrine, firewood shelter, and chimney and he had done it all on the same half rations of food as Amanda.

"I'm singing to take my mind off the pain," she admitted, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish.

"You can think of no other alternative?"

"I can't mediate like you."

"Have you ever attempted to learn?"

"No. And somehow I doubt now is a great time to try picking it up."

He stared at her and she stared right back. A flush started working its way through her cheeks. "On long hikes with my dad, we used to talk or listen to stories or sing campfire songs. I find it helpful to keep my mind off the aches and blisters is all."

"Talking would be preferable to singing."

"I didn't have you pegged as a fan of small talk."

"I am not," he replied, turning his body back in the direction they were traveling. "But I would prefer to listen to small talking than loud singing. And what does _whoopie ti yi yo_ mean?"

"I honestly don't even know. Probably nothing." They set off together, walking side-by-side rather than him galloping ahead and her struggling to keep up. "But lots of songs have nonsense parts. Don't Vulcans ever use gibberish?"

"No."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Amanda bit her lip and stole a glance at her traveling companion out of the corner of her eye. She didn't really know what to say: she'd already tried most of the traditional getting-to-know you questions and had been shut down on all previous occasions. And was her singing really _that_ bad?

Soon she began to fall off pace again and almost felt the urge to jog to keep up but she knew her muscles wouldn't comply if she tried.

"Are you fond of music?"

Amanda blinked several times, wondering if she'd just dreamt his question. "What?"

"Are you fond of music?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. As much as anyone, I guess. I like to listen to it anyway. I mean, my mom made me take piano lessons."

"I have seen this instrument," he replied. "It produces an elegant tone."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" It suddenly occurred to her she and Sarek were walking side-by-side again. He had slowed his pace slightly to match hers, but during their short little exchange, the ache in the arches of her feet had evaporated and the pins and needles sensation in the muscles of her back was barely noticeable.

"You know, the way you talk makes it sound like you haven't been on Earth very long. Well, I guess I _assume_ you live on Earth. Is that- I mean, do you?"

"Yes, I live on Earth. Prior to my mission to serve as arbiter between the Federation and Argelian government, I resided on Earth for 18.1 months."

"What were you mediating between our government and the Argelians?"

"A territorial dispute regarding the planet on which we currently reside."

She managed to catch herself before exclaiming, " _You're joking, right_?" and instead took an extra few seconds to compose a more intelligent reply. "That's an interesting coincidence."

"It is not exceptionally interesting, nor is it a coincidence. I was traveling to Argelius II aboard the USS _Bell_ , which had a scheduled stop in orbit of this planet."

"So what was the dispute about?"

"The Federation desires to establish an outpost in this star system and a colony on this planet, but the Argelians have earmarked it for development as a travel destination."

"A travel destination?" she scoffed. "Well, too bad we're stuck here and you'll never get to submit a firsthand, detailed report of life aboard this murder rock."

"Murder rock?"

"It was a silly euphemism."

"You are quite fond of them."

"Yeah, yes I am."

She sensed he was watching her and she stole a glance to her left, shocked to discover that he was. They both looked away quickly; the conversation, which might have been the most natural and least hostile one they'd ever had, was on the verge of collapsing. She racked her brain for a way to jumpstart the dwindling dialogue.

"Do you… like it? Earth, I mean. Living there."

"The climate has more precipitation than I am accustomed to."

"Oh, right, because it never rains on Vulcan."

"It rains on Vulcan, just not in Shi'Kahr." He hesitated for several seconds before adding, "Does it often rain in New Chicago?"

"How did you know I was from New Chicago?"

"You mentioned it seven days ago when you expressed your disdain for my upbringing on an estate in Shi'Kahr."

"Disdain?"

"I believe your tone at the time was indicative of disdain."

"It _was_? I didn't mean for it to be. I was _surprised_ , sure, but not..." she waved her hands around, looking for a better word before just settling on "disdainful."

She saw his head turn in her direction and she shifted her eyes to acknowledge him. All he said was "Fascinating."

They walked in silence for several more minutes as Amanda chewed over his confession. "Listen, if I ever came across as angry or whatever, I'm sorry."

"Your apology is unnecessary. I am not particularly adept at intuiting human emotion from vocal inflection. It was illogical of me to presume I could discern your opinion."

He was full of surprises today. "It must make it hard to be an ambassador if you have a aren't very good at picking up non-verbal cues."

"It sometimes poses a unique challenge, yes."

"To be honest, I'm not very good at communicating _without_ them, which makes it kind of hard to know what you're thinking sometimes."

"Why should you concern yourself with what I am thinking?"

"I- well, I- I guess I _care_ what you think. Sometimes I-" She stopped to consider her phrasing and wondered if it wouldn't be better to change the subject.

"Please, continue."

"Sometimes I feel intimidated by you."

"I pose no threat to you," Sarek insisted.

"No, no of course not. Not like that. You just- you're very smart and capable and obviously accomplished. You're an _ambassador_. I'm just a teacher."

"I owe you my life," he replied. "All of my accomplishments would be for nothing were it not for the assistance of 'just a teacher.'"

Such a statement demanded a rebuttal, but she was learning. He would find some clever way to turn it around and it seemed to her that he'd just paid her a subtle compliment. Why not just accept it and move on?

"May I submit a query?"

His odd request snapped her out of her brief internal musing. "Uh, sure. Query away."

"Why did you express surprise at learning I had grown up on an estate?"

"Well, I suppose that's because 'estate' sounds like a thing of the past, like something out of a Jane Austen novel, or like the _Jane Eyre_ movie we watched last night." Her mind darted back to the awkward handholding incident and wishing to change the subject, she started to ramble. "Uh, I mean, estates still exist but they're mostly tourist attractions. I went to Monticello once on a class trip. It was a house owned by- well I- I don't guess it matters. The point being, I think of the word estate and I think of women wearing uncomfortable dresses and houses full of servants and arranged marriages."

"Many Vulcans practice the custom of arranging marriages for their children," Sarek replied.

Amanda never did figure out how she managed to stop the word " _seriously_?" from flying out of her mouth. She couldn't have been more surprised, even if he had said Vulcans also practiced ritual sacrifice. About a thousand questions started to stream through her mind like a news ticker but she had the sense to know blurting out a lot of shocked questions was going to come across as ignorant and rude. But _arranged marriage_? She managed to choke out, "That's uhm- very interesting. How does ah- how does that work?"

"Quite simply. At age seven, a child's parents may engage colleagues or acquaintances with similarly aged children of the opposite sex and seek a private arrangement, or there are a number of marriage brokers in each municipality."

"A marriage broker?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking at the idea that Vulcan parents passed their children around like commodities on a stock exchange.

"A third party who maintains a dossier of eligible or soon-to-be eligible children."

"So your parents decide who you're going to marry when you're seven years old?"

"The ancient custom is falling out of favor with some progressive families, but it is maintained because-" He hesitated and she caught herself openly staring at him. He suddenly seemed extremely uncomfortable, which made Amanda glad because she was too. A quick side-eyed glance showed he was gripping the bottoms of the rucksack's shoulder straps so tightly his knuckles were turning white, which made her suppose his hands would be shaking otherwise.

She could probably spend the rest of her day asking questions about this bizarre and grotesquely old-fashioned Vulcan custom, but she'd also never felt so willing to change the subject. She tried to picture Sarek as a seven year-old boy, meeting his future seven year-old bride for the first time. Or did he come from one of those progressive families where marriages weren't arranged? If not, did they get to meet at all before the thing was done? Did the kids even get a say in it? Had Sarek even ever been a seven year-old boy?

She almost laughed aloud at the thought. Everything about him gave her the impression he had been born a fully-grown man, springing free from the womb to declare it was illogical for his mother to cry tears of joy. She bit hard on her thumb to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Do I amuse you?" Sarek asked. If she didn't know better, she'd almost say he sounded defensive. The longer she lived with Sarek, the more she started to think there really were a lot of emotions just beneath the surface.

"No, I was uh- I was just thinking about what it will be like if we actually manage to get out of here. All this time will have passed for us, but almost none for the people at home."

"That idea entertains you?"

"It _doesn't_ entertain you?"

"No."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," she answered, flashing him a tiny smile.

Their faces happened to be turning in just the right way at just the right time for them to accidentally make eye contact, which lasted just a second longer than it probably should have. Amanda felt herself starting to blush, looked away, and muttered, "Maybe we should check the tricorder."

They continued on until late afternoon, with Sarek making light conversation every time Amanda began to fall behind. Sometimes their discussions flowed naturally and sometimes they didn't, but Amanda was learning a lot about the man. They chatted about popular tourist destinations on Earth and Vulcan, the differences among various Terran cuisines, and the Terran education system, which Sarek found incredibly intriguing.

They set up camp on a hill overlooking a stream and that was when they realized they had forgotten the fire starter, along with any other instrument capable of starting a fire. Amanda had just assumed that Sarek, in all his organized, Vulcan fastidiousness, would have thought to bring one. But that was really no excuse—she could have brought one too. She had been so irritated that he hadn't wanted to let her come that she'd packed in a hurry. That kind of carelessness could be fatal in a place like this.

Not having a fire was not an option. It was already growing cold and even though the temperature wasn't supposed to dip down far enough for them to literally freeze, it would be a hard night without heat. It also didn't have to be below freezing for hypothermia to set in. More than that, fire kept away animals. The creatures on this planet may not have evolved to fear humans, but fire was a fairly ubiquitous threat and Amanda judged that some of the broader plains and shrubby meadows might have been carved out by forest fires within the past few decades. They would have a fire one way or another.

While Sarek contemplated methods of disassembling the tricorder and using its power supply to generate enough heat to produce a flame, Amanda busied herself cutting down a pair of nearby saplings. The wood was still partially damp from all the recent rain, so Amanda found a hollow in a larger tree and shaved some of the bark to make tinder, cut a small square from the same hollow to make a fireboard, and set to work building a bow drill.

Amanda had just started the arduous task of making a spark when she sensed Sarek watching her. She had only ever done this a handful of times and it had always been touch and go. She also hadn't been half-starving and the forest service had been a quick call away if she couldn't get it.

She'd always gotten the sense that the process of starting a fire with an ancient and exhausting method such as this was supposed to serve as some kind of broader message of self-reliance or not giving up, rather than a _literal_ lesson in building a fire or facing death. How old had she been during that chilly trip to Yellowstone when her dad had made her do it in the snow? Nine? Ten?

She couldn't remember exactly what he'd said, but in her mind, she could imagine what his words of encouragement must have been. She probably would have said something like, " _Can we please just use the fire starter_?" and he probably would have said, " _Life won't always give you the option of an easier way_."

Tears sprung up in the corners of her eyes out of nowhere and all the loneliness, anger, fear, and frustration of her situation was channeled into sawing back and forth on the bow drill. She cooked up smoke in record time, but the spark was slower to come. She heard Sarek call her name several times, but something about this task was strangely personal. Harder and harder she stroked, until… _success_.

She flopped down, blew gently, and found herself face-to-face with life-preserving flame. Her hands were cracked and small dots of blood were forming around blisters on her palms, but they would be warm tonight and that was all that mattered at the moment.

"Quickly, before it is extinguished," Sarek gently encouraged, adding more tinder to the tiny fire.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve and nodded and together they spent the next hour coaxing their little spark into a roaring campfire. The night was soon full of the cries of dozens of animals and they agreed to sleep in shifts, but they were _safe_ , or at least as safe as they could be.

* * *

**Arg-117P: Day 26**

Sarek's hands shook so violently that he was having trouble washing them. The stream was cold, but not cold enough to numb his senses.

Their journey to the escape pod had been fraught with misfortune and they still had another day and a half before they would reach it. Amanda was slowing them down, but even if she had not come, he would not be traveling as quickly as he would have preferred in his diminished physical state.

And he would have preferred to come alone. Amanda could be so intransigent, but he could not deny he was grateful for her. Her remarkable ingenuity at building a fire using friction had kept them alive the first night. It angered him that he could have overlooked a fire starter, and it angered him that he was angry.

He had found a number of tricks to lessen the effects of his pon farr—aside from the thrill of combat, pain and cold temperatures could dull his growing emotionalism—but they were temporary and less effective with each passing day. His frustration over this morning's development had nearly caused him to throw his rucksack into a nearby tree.

Yesterday, during their second day of travel, it had rained from late morning to dusk and there had been scattered rainfall throughout the night. They had been unable to generate a fire and had spent the night shivering in wet clothes in their sleeping sacks. Sarek had barely slept—the pon farr had him sleeping so little these days—but at some point in the night, some animals had found their way into their rucksacks and eaten through their scant rations. They had been outwitted by rodents and now had no food.

Amanda had proposed returning to their camp but they were already more than halfway to their destination. Only 41.2 kilometers stood between them and the object, and they _had_ to make it to the object. He could not be certain that it was an escape pod, but based on his calculations, there was an eighty-nine percent probability that it had come from the _Bell_ and based on the delay in reaching the planet, there was a 38.6 percent chance it was unoccupied, assuming it had been ejected from the starboard side.

If it were indeed unoccupied, it would contain a barely utilized deuterium power cell, in addition to forty ration packs of 800 Calories each, presuming it was similarly equipped to the escape pod he'd arrived in. Reaching it could be their salvation if it were an escape pod, or their demise if it were not.

He traced his fingers through the frigid water, trying to find some clarity. Was it logical to return or more logical to push ahead? The only thing he could know for certain was that he did not know. He was getting lost in the forest of his own incoherent thoughts. It was logical… it was only logical… logical to _what_?

"Sarek?"

He balled his hands into fists but tempered his response. "Yes?"

"I think we should push ahead. We might be able to find some roots along the way and some of these trees have edible pulp. We can get through this."

The soft lilt of her voice calmed him but only momentarily. Amanda's voice was occasionally soothing, often arousing, and every so often, entirely captivating. She had talked so much during the past two days and he had even encouraged her initially, if only to help her keep the pace and focus on ignoring the physical pain of their journey. It had been tiresome at first but it had become a strange comfort. It seemed familiar and natural and he had learned a great deal about her in the process. She was a fascinating woman and he had been careful to keep physical distance from her, lest he tempt to bond with her a second time.

It took enormous effort to avoid thinking of that incident three nights ago—the memory of her grasping for his hands sent shivers up his spine—but every time he did, he was nearly overwhelmed with lust. How could he know whether his interest in her was genuine or had developed simply out of need?

Part of his desire to push forward was the faint hope they might retrieve enough deuterium to escape the planet, but even if they could, which was unlikely, what would he do then? It could take weeks to make the pod ready for spaceflight and perhaps even longer than that to be rescued once they broke through the atmosphere. Based on his previous encounters with this detestable condition, he only had weeks to resolve it, maybe less and it was becoming clear he could not manage on his own. He would need to enlist her help or he would die.

"Sarek?"

He shook his head. Had she been speaking? "Yes?"

"What do you think we should do?"

" _We should mate_ ," he thought fleetingly, horrified that his mind had been all but devoured by carnal instincts. He was in no position to make rational decisions anymore, but she was. Maybe it would be logical to trust her if he could not trust himself. "We should do what you recommend."

"Push on to the escape pod? You're sure?"

"Yes," he answered quickly.

And they did. They were talking less and moving slower. For end meal that evening, Amanda cut some bark from a tree, extracted the woody pulp, and boiled it in one of the empty thermal bags the rations had come packaged in. It produced a foul-smelling soupy substance but according to the tricorder, it was safe to eat and contained moderate amounts of protein and fiber.

The wind picked up during the night and by the next morning it was raining once again. They only had 14.2 kilometers remaining to travel, but the heavy rainfall and muddy terrain slowed them to a glacial pace. By early afternoon the rain had transformed into icy sleet and Amanda had adopted a gait that was more indicative of staggering than walking. Sarek was hardly faring much better.

He was stopping to check the tricorder often now and soon they were within a kilometer of their destination, then half a kilometer. The precipitation had turned into a full-blown winter storm and visibility was poor but he was certain they were within a hundred meters of the object by now. Why could he not find it?

Even through the screaming wind, he heard a loud thump just behind his shoulder and whipped around to see Amanda had fallen to her knees and was leaning forward in a semi-prostrate position.

He bent forward at the waist. "Amanda, get up."

"I'm tired. I just need to lay down."

"We are nearly there."

"Where? I can't see anything."

"Amanda, please."

"You go. I don't want to keep slowing you down. I just need to sleep."

Despite his intense desire to avoid touching her, he slid his right arm under her left armpit and pulled her to her feet, but he had to hold her to prevent her from collapsing again. He could not support her weight for long but if he left her here to first seek out the pod, there was a chance he would not find her again.

They shuffled forward together, Amanda half conscious and Sarek not far behind her. Twenty minutes later, he saw what he initially thought was a tree with a wide trunk, but realized it was a cylindrical object. The object they'd seen entering Arg-117P's atmosphere four days earlier did indeed turn out to be a pod from the USS _Bell_.

Ice had frozen the latch on the hatch shut and his stiff and frozen fingers lacked the dexterity to pry it open. In the end, he resorted to chipping the ice away with the hatchet and when he finally got the door open, hoisted the barely conscious Amanda inside and followed her into salvation.


	14. Lifeline

**Arg-117P: Day 27**

" _Amanda_!" a voice shouted. It was masculine, very strained, and fading in and out over the screams of the wind. "Amanda, get inside!"

Her eyelids tried in vain to peel themselves back from over her eyes but she couldn't make them comply. Maybe they were frozen shut or maybe she had so little energy left she couldn't operate them.

"Amanda, get inside!"

Get inside? Get inside _where_? She started to sink to her knees but some external force held her upright. She leaned forward and tried to form words, but her tongue didn't seem to be functioning either.

Suddenly she was being lifted upward, like a tired toddler being plucked from the floor by its mother. Her head smacked hard into a smooth surface, momentarily stunning her back to the present, and when her eyes flickered open all she could see was darkness. She inched forward on instinct, sliding along on numb hands and knees.

A door slammed in the distance, erasing the din of the raging storm. It was disorienting, to be surrounded by howling wind one moment and trapped in a pitch black, silent void the next. Was she _dead_? Could dead people think? She started to scream, but the only sound that came out was a hoarse squeak.

"Amanda, please remain calm."

She wanted to respond, but nothing seemed to be working. Sometime later—it might have been seconds or it might have been hours—she felt a strong hand shaking her shoulder.

"Sit up."

"I'm tired."

"You need not be alert, but it is imperative you maintain consciousness."

"Why?"

"Because I fear you may not wake again if you do not."

Something in his tone sent chills down her already half-frozen spine. Amanda managed to wedge her eyes open just enough to take in some kind of control room bathed in soft orange light. Where _were_ they? The hand shook her shoulder again.

"Sarek?" she muttered.

"Amanda, please sit up."

"I'm s-s-so c-cold."

His hand slid around her back and pulled her into a sitting position. She wasn't sure whether to curse him or thank him for this disturbance.

"Can you feel your fingers? Your toes?" he asked.

She tried to flex her knuckles, an action that sent a painful tingles racing up her hands and wrists. Had frostbite set in? She tilted her head forward to assess the damage, but her eyes had drifted shut again. She should open them, but she was _so_ tired. Why couldn't he understand that?

Without warning, a lovely feeling pierced the pain in her hands and quickly dwarfed it, causing her to utter an involuntary moan of pleasure. It flickered out just as quickly as it had come on, causing Amanda to finally open her eyes and really take stock of her surroundings for the first time in hours.

There was some dim, peripheral awareness that they were in a tiny room and no longer facing certain death in a sudden winter storm, but the only thing she could focus on was his face. Sarek was on his knees and examining her with a look of concern. It was disconcerting to see such obvious emotion emanating from his features. She muttered the first idiotic thing that came to mind.

"Y-you have i-i-ice in your h-h-hair."

His eyes narrowed and he looked down, prompting Amanda to do the same. For some strange reason, her hands were clasped together in a praying pose and she was extending them outward. His hands were shaking furiously just centimeters away.

The color of her fingers terrified her. They were impossibly pale and when she consciously thought about it, she couldn't really feel them. She stretched the stiff digits outward and croaked a soft cry at the pain caused by her feeble attempt. "A-a-am I g-g-g-going to l-l-lose my f-f-f-?"

Before she could finish her thought, he gripped her hands and the exotic sensation returned. There was still pain, but now there was also _such_ pleasure. She whimpered and soon found herself leaning forward, barely able to breathe.

What was happening? The mere feel of his rough palms sandwiching her frozen hands was beginning to verge on orgasmic and while she sensed they should stop this _right now_ to avoid the worst embarrassment imaginable, she couldn't bring herself to pull her hands away and he didn't seem keen to let her go. How could his hands be _so_ warm?

This feeling was very familiar but she couldn't say why. It was connected to some recent memory but she couldn't think through the cold and confusion. Just when it occurred to her this had been the same feeling she'd experienced several nights ago when trying to help him use the dermal regenerator on his hands, he released his grip.

Her hands instinctively tried to follow his, desperate to maintain not only the warmth and comfort of his gesture, but also the delicious and sensual feeling it brought. She quickly stopped herself and took a deep breath.

Sarek cleared his throat, leaned back on his haunches, and smoothly transitioned to a standing position. "Perhaps you could tuck your hands under your arms to transfer heat from your upper torso. You should also attempt to keep circulation flowing to your lower extremities."

"Y-yeah," she mumbled, fumbling to unzip her coat just enough to slide her hands under her shirt. "Are w-w-we in the es-s-scape pod?"

He had taken to fumbling with the computer system and had his back turned to her. "Yes."

"Can w-w-we get a-a-any h-heat?"

"I am attempting to adjust the internal environmental settings now."

When a soft hum filled the air and startled Amanda, she was mildly shocked to discover she'd started dozing. Sarek towered over her, searching through the overhead compartments. She wanted to help rather than sit on the floor in a semi-frozen ball but she wasn't sure what he was doing or how she could contribute. Then something soft brushed her cheek and she noticed he'd dropped a dark blue, fluffy blanket from above.

She did her best to spread it over her body, but with as cold as she was, it felt about as effective as trying to warm herself by huddling under a pile of leaves. She drifted in and out for a time until her nose alerted her to a fascinating new development. She cracked an eye open and found Sarek squatting in front of her once again, holding a cup reminiscent of a travel coffee mug with curls of steam wafted upward from a small hole in the top.

"What's this?" she choked, sitting up slightly. Her limbs were stiff and her body was a mass of prickling and aches, but the interior of the pod had to be at least thirty degrees warmer than it had been just a little while ago.

"Rations from the pod. I believe this one was called Tuscan white bean soup."

She would have been less shocked if he'd offered her several kilograms of black market narcotics. "There's _food_?" she asked, unable to contain her emotion at the thought of a hot meal.

"This pod was ejected from the _Bell_ without a passenger. All of the supplies and much of the deuterium power cell remain intact."

Amanda couldn't exactly help the fact that she began laughing. It was quiet at first but quickly advanced into hysteria. She tried stifling it with her hand but eventually gave up and laughed until the tears flowed.

"I do not understand-"

"We were almost dead a little while ago and now you're telling me I can just eat food and be warm? What's the catch?"

"The catch?"

Amanda shook her head and tried to sit more upright. "I know you don't like it when I don't believe you, but it's very hard to believe we could be this lucky after having been so _un_ lucky for so long."

"There is no logic in luck."

"I'm sure there isn't," Amanda laughed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "But can we skip the logic talk right now? Where can I get a cup of that soup?"

He held it out to her with shaking hands and Amanda received it with hands that were shaking nearly as badly. It took remarkable self-discipline to keep from pouring it all down her throat right then and there. "Is there more? Aren't you going to have some?"

"There are sufficient rations on the pod to sustain a single person for ten days. Eat as much as you like."

She didn't need to be told twice. The hot, fatty liquid rolled over her tongue and hit her empty stomach like a fierce punch but she wouldn't have traded it for anything. Interestingly, she'd never really liked white beans but suddenly they were delicious.

She took another drink, crushed several of the white beans between her molars, and without really thinking giggled, "Oh I love you! This soup is _amazing_!"

It didn't immediately occur to her that she'd just declared her love for him on the basis of making her a cup of soup, because obviously she hadn't meant to imply she _loved_ him. She casually told people she loved them all the time—her friends, her fellow teachers, and occasionally even random people at the supermarket who said witty things in the checkout line.

"I-I don't mean I _love_ you, I just really meant- you know… I just- it's very- _you know_?"

Sarek was staring at his shaking hands as though he was trying to see through them. "It is not the first time you have professed love for me."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"The night you fell and broke your leg: you uttered it many times as I treated your injuries."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I was probably delirious. I don't _love_ you."

The moment the words escaped her lips, she wished she could take them back. It was true, she didn't _love_ him, but it also didn't feel right to say with such a defensive tone.

"I had deduced as much," he replied, shifting his weight to move from a squatting position to a sitting position directly across from her.

"I don't mean I don't _like_ you, it's just that- I mean, I meant it like a joke- like…"

"I have never understood the human propensity for joking."

His words seemed like a harsh accusation. He almost sounded hurt or offended. _Almost_.

"I wasn't making fun of you- I- I only meant. I was trying to thank you- but it-" She would have added more, but backpedaling was clearly only making things worse. What could have possessed her to say " _I love you_ " to this man under any circumstances? Sarek, the man who probably would have taken it literally if she told him to pull his head out of his ass.

"Why do you believe we have been unlucky?" he suddenly asked.

"Huh?"

"You stated you found it difficult to believe we could be this lucky after having been so unlucky for so long."

Amanda blinked several times, slow to catch onto the fact they'd been talking about the nature of bad luck before their conversation had taken a turn down the most cringe-worthy path possible. "I meant getting stranded here, not being able to get off the planet, breaking my leg, getting caught in this storm…"

"Yet we also have extensive tools and resources at our disposal. You may have broken your leg, but I was there to assist you and had a bone knitter to repair the damage. We were caught in this storm but located this escape pod. Should those things not be considered lucky?"

Amanda frowned and gripped the warm sides of the soup container. "Then maybe luck is a function of attitude, I don't know. It kind of sounds like you're asking me to look on the bright side. Maybe I should."

She took another slow sip of the soup, careful to stop herself from sucking every last drop of liquid from the cup in under thirty seconds. "Are you not going to eat?"

He took too long to think about a simple question, but he eventually twisted at the waist and reached into a box underneath the single jump seat to produce a can much like hers labelled "Tomato bisque."

She watched as he pulled a tab on the side to induce a chemical reaction in the outer container that would rapidly heat the broth within. Amanda sipped from her own cup, wriggling her fingers and toes and happy to realize that though they were very stiff and tingling, the feeling was slowly returning.

"So we have enough food here to last us both for five days?" she asked, looking down at her hands. "That is if we're eating full rations?"

"We do."

"Any ideas on how long this storm will last?"

"The tricorder estimates fifty hours, but its accuracy is poor."

"Yeah, no kidding. It was supposed to be cloudy and chilly and out of nowhere this place turned into a frozen hellscape."

"I believe I indicated before we left that the tricorder's forecast was imprecise."

"You did," Amanda agreed. "I guess I'm just surprised the weather would shift so suddenly."

"Lieutenant Hornsby spoke often of rapidly changing weather patterns and severe winter storms."

"That's true," Amanda gulped. "Speaking of Carl Hornsby, I thought I heard you say this pod has a deuterium power cell. Can we use it to help us get off this planet?"

"We will take it with us when we leave, but it is insufficient for the task of generating enough power to the thrusters to escape orbit."

Amanda's heart sank. "Even if we add it to the deuterium left in my escape pod?"

"Even when added to the deuterium left in your escape pod, we will still require an additional 0.54 kilograms."

"How much was left in Hornsby's shuttle?"

"Less than forty grams. Its addition to our supply would be negligible."

"What if we shed some weight from the pod, what if-"

"My calculations were based on the most ideal set of circumstances for escaping the planet. The fact remains that we do not have enough deuterium under any set of conditions to break orbit."

His teeth clicked as he finished his sentence and the muscles in his jaw strained. it frightened her to hear him sound so angry. Angry for a _Vulcan_ , anyway. Amanda's first instinct was to fall back into the despair she'd felt in the days after meeting Sarek and discovering just how bad the situation really was, but something gave her pause.

"If we found another pod, would that be enough? I mean, how much deuterium-"

"This escape pod contains 0.74 kilograms of deuterium. Were we to find a similar one, one without a passenger and without substantial damage, it would almost certainly contain a sufficient supply of deuterium to allow us to escape orbit."

"Then that's what we'll have to do."

His dark eyes flicked in her direction at the same moment Amanda was scanning his face for some kind of hint of what he was thinking, resulting in unexpectedly intense and prolonged eye contact. He gulped a shallow breath and wrung his hands. Amanda gazed down at the cup of soup wedged between her palms and after some hesitation, took another drink.

Was it childishly optimistic to think that if _this_ pod had fallen into their backyard, _relatively_ speaking, another one might do the same? They had both skipped through the valley of death to get to this pod, but she would gladly go through it all over again if it meant getting a ticket home. A question about the likelihood of finding a second escape pod trembled at the tip of her tongue, but when she glanced over at Sarek, she lost her train of thought.

He was sitting with his back to the wall by the jump seat, knees to his chest and staring at the cup of soup in his hand as though it held some mysterious secret. A dark stubble had sprung up on his chin in the past two days and his pointed ears and stark haircut were hidden beneath a cap and were it not for a green flush on his cheeks, she might have mistaken him for human.

There was no denying Sarek was a good-looking man, but he seemed so different than the person she'd first met two weeks ago. His eyes were more alert and penetrating, which gave him a novel, distinctive intensity, but his cheeks were bordering on hollow. She absentmindedly touched her own face, thinking she probably looked a little more lean and stretched too. But for a man who was starving, he sure didn't seem to like to eat much.

"Are you going to eat your soup?"

He actually jumped at the sound of her voice, which made her wonder if she'd accidentally shouted at him. He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a tiny sip, or at least went through the motion of drinking, but she wasn't sure he'd actually consumed any.

"Do you not like tomato soup?"

"It is adequate."

"Then why aren't you eating it?"

"I am."

"Is it just me or are you not eating much these days?"

His body stiffened and he lowered the cup to the floor.

"You thought I didn't notice?" she pressed. "I think about food almost every waking minute of the day, but you seem indifferent to meal times. Granted, my tree bark soup from the night before wasn't exactly haute cuisine-"

"It was acceptable."

" _Acceptable_ ," she sighed.

"Your tone is indicative of disapproval."

"I thought you weren't good at picking up on human tone and body language."

"Yours is plain enough."

"I'm not disapproving—I'm _worried_ about you. Why aren't you eating?"

"I am-" He hesitated, blinked several times, and eventually offered, "The food is adequate but I am not accustomed to it. That is all."

"If you really want the truth, I _hate_ white beans, but I'm hungry enough that these tasted just fine." She picked up her nearly empty cup of soup and as if to prove her point, tilted her head back and swallowed the rest of it.

He reached for his soup, picked it up, and in the most deliberate way imaginable, began to drink. Amanda felt slightly ridiculous, like she'd shamed him into eating the same way a mother might shame her kids into eating their peas because children on Terra Nova didn't have any food to eat at all, not even peas.

Amanda wasn't sure why she took a stab at small talk, but he'd chatted with her during the early part of their journey and she was tired of awkward silence. "What do you _normally_ eat then?"

His eyes flicked up from the cup of soup. "At home my typical diet varies."

"So does most people's, but isn't there some kind of food you prefer? Something you miss?"

"I do not _miss_ any particular dish. It would be illogical-"

"-to miss food?" Amanda finished with him in unison.

He pursed his lips and gave a small nod of his head. Amanda leaned back against the opposite wall, pulled the lid off her own cup of soup, and popped the few beans that had gotten stuck to the bottom into her mouth. "I miss chocolate cake. It's going to be the first thing I do if we ever get out of here, is get myself some cake."

Something about those four words accomplished the impossible. The corners of his mouth twisted ever so slightly upward and he uttered the smallest of chuckles.

"Did you just _laugh_?"

His face immediately resumed its stoic arrangement. "No."

"It sounded like a laugh."

"You are mistaken."

"You _did_. You laughed."

While his laugh hadn't escaped her notice, neither did the fact that his hands were now balled into fists and shaking. She was embarrassing him and now found herself feeling like an awful bully. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

"It would be prudent to power down the escape pod's systems in order to conserve the deuterium."

All she could do was bite her lip and nod. "Yeah, yeah sure."

He stood up so fast that it would have been more appropriate to say he jumped and less than a minute later, they were sitting in the dark. There was some comfort in the darkness in that awkward eye contact was no longer possible, but without light it was tough to tell what was the best way to arrange their bodies to maintain maximum distance between them in the cramped space available.

Amanda loosened her the laces of her boots and pulled the blanket high up over her body to trap as much heat as possible before it started getting too cold. She leaned her head against the cabin wall and tried to get comfortable but she'd never been any good at sleeping upright. It wouldn't be correct to say she tossed and turned, but even with as exhausted as she was, she couldn't manage to get to sleep.

She tried wriggling forward to stretch her legs a little bit, but she accidentally kicked Sarek's foot, or at least what she _thought_ was Sarek's foot, so she violently jerked her feet back and apologized profusely. Her tailbone was tingling so she shifted her weight to the left, then slowly lowered the left side of her body to the floor, keeping her back pressed tightly to the wall. She closed her eyes and discovered she was more awake than she'd been in days.

"Vulcan breakfast tea."

"Huh?" she mumbled.

"You had asked what kind of food I prefer. I enjoy consuming many kinds of foods, but I was particularly fond of drinking tea in the mornings after meditation. I would gladly accept a cup of Vulcan breakfast tea if it were available."

Amanda grinned, grateful her reaction was hidden in the darkness. "I've never had Vulcan breakfast tea. What's it like?"

"It is tea. It is an aromatic and somewhat bitter beverage produced by steeping plant matter in boiling water."

"I know. We have tea on Earth, but there are all different kinds," Amanda replied, shivering against the rapidly growing chill in the air. "Black tea, green tea. Some teas are served hot, others cold."

"Tea is intended to be served hot."

She smiled again. "Not according to people who live in the southern part of the North American continent."

"I see."

"I'll have to try some of that Vulcan tea of yours if we ever get out of here."

There was no response, but the brief interaction set Amanda slightly more at ease. The floor was hard, the air was cold, and her body was stiff, but it was warmer inside the pod than out and she had a cup of soup in her belly. Things could always be better, but they could always be worse too.

* * *

Sarek hadn't eaten or slept properly in weeks, and so when he awoke the next morning feeling generally rested, he almost forgot he was suffering from pon farr. That was until he realized he and Amanda had repositioned themselves during the night. The back of her body was neatly curled against the front of his, with both of them snuggled under the Starfleet issued blue fleece blanket he'd found in the overhead compartment.

His immediate instinct was to pull away but logic managed to prevail, even if just _barely_. Amanda was using his left arm as a pillow—a fact which was sending a sensation of pins and needles from his elbow to his fingertips—but he dared not move because any sudden motion would likely wake her. What would she say if she awoke to find he had taken such liberties in the night? Not that he'd adopted this grossly inappropriate sleeping arrangement _intentionally_.

He tried to slow his breathing and focus on what he should do, but the harder he tried to avoid thinking about the fact that he had a woman nestled against his aching body, the harder it became to think about _anything_ else. The natural change in his heart rate and blood flow that came from transitioning from sleep to wakefulness, coupled with his intense need for female companionship conspired to make an already unfortunate situation dramatically worse.

He slowly eased his hips away from her buttocks but she whimpered in her sleep and shifted her body backwards, pressing him between her tiny frame and the wall of the escape pod. A hungry sigh escaped his lips and for a wild moment, all he wanted was to slide his hand along her jawbone, meld his mind to hers, then roll her onto her back and…

He tore himself away from the thought, closed his eyes, and held his breath. She had not consented. She hadn't consented to _any_ of this.

Sarek had tried on numerous occasions the previous evening to explain his regrettable situation to Amanda, but every time he managed to convince himself to say the words, he lost his nerve. His _nerve_. What logic was there in being frightened or timid in the face of simple facts? But then again, what logic was there in pon farr?

He'd held her hands to help warm them—the pon farr caused elevated body temperature and he was unnaturally warm given the cold weather—but she had been too delirious at the time for him to bring the matter up. Then she'd told him she loved him and he had nearly explained his plight then, but she'd quickly informed him she was joking. There was no logic in _any_ of this.

Amanda groaned again and Sarek summoned the courage to peek at her. Dark tendrils of hair sprawled from under her cap and looped over her neck and shoulder and he resisted the urge to move it so that he might better observe her features. How could he _dare_ presume to touch her in _any_ manner? He forced himself to study the small mole just behind her ear and was just beginning to regain some of his composure when she jerked, tried to stretch her legs out, and then flipped onto her back. She didn't stay there for long however, because mere seconds later, she turned her body to face his.

He looked on in horror as she nuzzled his sternum and then pressed her hand against his right pectoral muscle. He was powerless to stop the spontaneous shiver that her intimate touch produced, and it was enough of a reaction to prompt Amanda to slowly open her eyes. She blinked her heavy lids twice, then her eyes grew wide and she and Sarek instantly became an unfortunate tangle of alarm, cringing, and apologies in a space that was much too small for such things.

"I can't believe- I just- _wow_!"

"I must apologize-"

"No, I shouldn't have- did I?- did you?- _ugh_."

"No, I would never-"

"I didn't mean _that_. Oh- oh- oh no."

Amanda was soon on her feet and trying to fold the blanket, but her hands were shaking so badly she was mostly wadding it into a tight ball.

"I would never intentionally take any liberty with-"

"Oh, I know you wouldn't," she quipped. "It's a really small space and we were both trying to get comfortable."

Sarek shoved his hands in his pockets to conceal the erratic shaking.

"I guess in the night we just-" She waved her hands around and scowled. "It doesn't mean anything. I'm a heavy sleeper and I toss and turn. There's so little floorspace and…" She never did finish her thought but instead, chose to mumble something about the weather and fumbled with the hatch.

"It won't- I can't get it- how can we be _stuck_?" She yelled and kicked the door hard.

"I believe the door may be frozen shut," he said quickly, relieved the conversation was no longer focused on the precise details of how they'd spent the night but also dismayed they were potentially trapped inside the pod.

It would be simple enough to activate the environmental controls and thaw the door, but that could take several hours, and so Sarek was greatly relieved when the door sprung open after his fourth attempt, revealing a gray and frozen landscape.

The violent storm had tapered off into a gentle snowfall with a light breeze out of the south. Amanda was in such a hurry to flee from Sarek and the pod that she slipped away the moment the hatch was wide enough to accommodate the width of her body. She raced out into the open, leaving a set of neat tracks in the shallow snow and also leaving Sarek to wonder what he should do.

Should he follow her? Ask her where she was going? Between the tracks she was leaving and the tricorder, he could easily find her again, but he disliked the idea she would strike out on her own. Sarek pulled the hatch partially closed and sat down in the jump seat.

How could he ever broach the delicate subject of mating with her _now_ , when she'd just made it so abundantly clear she was repulsed by close physical contact with him? He brought his shaking hands to his temples and massaged them as best as he could. Until now, he'd always believed he would find some means of resolving his pon farr, but since none of the theoretical alternatives to mating appeared to be viable options and the only possible mate he could take was utterly distraught at the thought of being in close proximity to him, he only had two options remaining to him: beg her to permit him to mate with her anyway or _die_.

His thoughts circled around the increasing likelihood that he had only weeks or perhaps _days_ left to live. It was so difficult to know how his pon farr would progress. He felt himself drowning, terrified at the prospect of death and angry at the unfairness of it and no longer caring about how illogical this brand of self-pity was. Then the hatch door opened and Amanda reappeared.

He looked directly into her dark eyes and emboldened by the idea that he had nothing to lose by simply asking if she would consent, he said, "I must speak with you."

"Yeah," she said, pulling the hatch closed behind her. "But before you say anything, I think we should just agree last night didn't mean anything. It's freezing in here and it's a tiny escape pod and neither of us would- it's not like we would _ever_ \- you know. I can't even think of a single reason we might- well, _anyway_ , I'm sorry and I hope we can move past this."

Sarek closed his mouth and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. When she flashed him a nervous smile, any last shred of courage he had evaporated.

"Now," she continued. "Interested in breakfast?"

He wasn't. He was only interested in survival. And _her_.


	15. Cold Bonding

**Arg-117P: Day 29**

"The weather doesn't seem so bad," Amanda murmured, peeking out the small portal in the hatch to observe the gray sunrise. She had a container of creamy chicken soup cupped between her hands and was softly blowing on the steam to cool it. Sarek could barely focus on her words over the lovely movement of her lips.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"I said the weather doesn't seem so bad. Do you think we could start heading back to our pod?"

Sarek thought to himself. He didn't know. What was the most logical course of action?

"I know the tricorder says this thing is might stretch out for another two days, but it seems really mild right now," she continued.

"Yes."

"So is that yes we should go for it or yes it seems mild right now?"

What had her original question been? He couldn't think and being unable to think was frustrating, and being frustrated was frustrating, but nothing was more frustrating than being confined to a small space with such a marvelous creature in his current condition.

He had not slept the night before for fear they would become entwined in their sleep a second time. They had spent the whole of yesterday huddled in the tiny compartment, periodically turning on the environmental settings just long enough to keep the interior of the escape pod above freezing. There was little in the way of entertainment and though they'd made efforts at small talk when the silence became unbearable, it had been difficult to sustain meaningful conversation, but whether that was due to her embarrassment for cuddling with him or his inability to focus his thoughts, he could not say.

His thoughts were a disastrous jumble. He thought of telling her about his pon farr several times, particularly when the silence would stretch on for more than an hour, but she would always find a way to inadvertently destroy his courage at the last moment. He'd also thought about wandering the woods in search of another escape pod, hoping against hope he could find another deuterium cell and they could escape from the planet.

It was simple mathematics rather than logic that told him it was a bad idea: the probability of finding another pod by chance was virtually non-existent and even if he _did_ , by the time he returned to Amanda's warp-capable pod, prepared it for the journey, and got it out of orbit, he would be dead of pon farr.

But one thought in particular kept swirling around the forefront of his mind. He hadn't intended to embrace her during the night—he could only be responsible for conscious decisions, after all—but pon farr was making him irrational. What if he attempted to force himself upon her? He would have never believed himself capable of such a thing, but once the yamareen reached a certain threshold in his blood, he would no longer figuratively _be_ himself.

In truth, he did not know what would happen or what he might do. Since entering his first pon farr more than four decades ago, he'd never been in a situation where he'd been unable to immediately address this detestable condition. It had never been this bad.

"Sarek?"

He shook his head and canted his head in her direction. "Hmmm?"

"So should we stay or should we go?"

"What would you prefer?"

"I feel like it makes sense to go now. We've rested and eaten and if we leave now, we'll have enough food for the journey back to our pod."

"And if the storm picks up again?" he asked idly, not really considering his words.

"There's no telling what the weather might do. We can fight our way through a winter storm with food in our bellies or we can wait a few more days and the storm might continue, at which point we'd have to do it on empty stomachs. I don't know. I'm asking you because you'll know what's most logical. My gut is telling me we should go now. What does your logic tell you?"

Should he trust Amanda's gut or his logic? He almost wanted to laugh. There was no logic in relying on inherent instinctual sentiment—that was a fact that had been clearly stated throughout childhood and adolescence and not a conclusion he'd arrived at following logical analysis—but now that his logic was waning, it could only be wise to entrust his safety to Amanda. It was not _il_ logical, was it?

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"You keep staring off into space. I can't tell if you're thinking or bored."

He blinked and tried to see through the tiny hatch but Amanda's head was in the way. "You nearly died on the journey to this pod."

"And we'll die if we stay here too long. Both of us."

There was great irony in her words, given that he would die soon regardless of the weather or the amount of food stores. Rather than attempt to explain that to her again, he nodded and replied, "Then we will go."

She gave him a soft smile and said, "I'll start packing."

They left less than an hour later, with Amanda carrying the remaining rations from the escape pod and Sarek carrying the deuterium power cell. They had wisely also packed the pod's fire starter for their journey home. Amanda's technique for starting a fire with friction was ingenious, but it was also slow and physically exhausting.

The weather was cold and windy. On the first day of their journey, the temperature never climbed above minus seven degrees, according to the human Celsius scale, which was equivalent to 250 faleks for Vulcans, a temperature which had never been recorded on Vulcan. To insulate the exposed parts of their faces, they wore pieces of the pod's blue Starfleet blanket wrapped around their faces and tucked into their hoods of their coats, but Sarek wasn't sure if he could feel cold in the same way Amanda could. Elevated body temperature and reduced sensitivity to heat, cold, and pain were common symptoms of late stage pon farr.

"I wonder what the weather is like back at our pod," she mused.

"It is not the first time you have made such a remark," he replied. She had mentioned it exactly five times the day before.

"No," she agreed, stamping her feet hard into the snow. "But do you think the ground is already frozen?"

"There are many variables that affect the rate at which soil will freeze—relative moisture content, snow cover, soil composition-"

"Right, but I'm just wondering if our root vegetable digging days are over."

"It is quite possible." Sarek glanced at the surrounding forest. The trees were no longer sporting the blue-green foliage but were now gnarled things with spindly, naked branches. Arg-117P had no calendar to speak of, but it seemed safe to say winter had arrived in the span of three days.

"I don't think we have enough food to get us through the winter," she said quietly.

Sarek was certain that they did not, but there _was_ enough food for one and he did not anticipate surviving much longer without some resolution to his pon farr. It was such a depressing realization, to know he would be dead soon after having survived so much already. And dead of _what_? Dead because his body couldn't cope with the constant rigors of logic.

Pon farr was merely the result of the body rebelling against the constant discipline of a logical mind, at least for Vulcan _males_ , anyway. Healthy Vulcan females of reproductive age experienced menstrual cycles and thus, experienced periodic hormonal fluctuations to a sufficient degree that they rarely if ever experienced pon farr.

He had never thought to envy his female counterparts, but he was beginning to. Until now, pon farr had always seemed a minor inconvenience, a small price to pay for the serenity that logic provided. Now, trapped alone on a planet with a human woman and suffering like he'd never suffered before was causing him to reevaluate his entire life. Maybe this was proof that adherence to logic was illogical after all, if it ultimately led to mental decline and death. Now pon farr was making him contemplate heresy in addition to everything else. How miserable this was.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Sarek snapped out of his internal reflection to see Amanda looking back at him over her shoulder. "I am sorry, I… I am quite occupied."

"You and me both," she muttered.

She made several more half-hearted attempts at small talk but there was little she could do to pull him out of his rapidly expanding depression. Later that afternoon she began singing and though he found it irritating, he could not bring himself to stop her, and so he was once again regaled with the unusual tales of Dinah in her kitchen and Captain Jack by the railroad tracks and so on and so forth.

When they stopped that evening to make a camp, Sarek took care to ensure they slept on opposite sides of the fire. Temperatures dipped down to minus twenty degrees and Amanda trickled in and out of sleep, at times shivering so badly that she woke herself up. Useful rest also eluded Sarek, so he unzipped his sleeping bag, draped it over her, and dedicated the rest of the night to building up the fire.

The next two days of their journey were windier and colder still. It was late in the afternoon on the third day when Amanda stumbled to a stop at the top of a ridge and said, "I'm really tired."

"Perhaps you should eat."

"We need to save the food."

"Then what do you propose?"

"I don't know. I just need to rest for a little while."

"If you like."

"I'm sorry I'm slowing you down."

Sarek was quite fatigued as well, but it had not occurred to him to stop and rest as long as Amanda could keep going. The hormones of pon farr had given him almost unnatural strength and endurance while stripping away his need for sleep and food. It would not be sustainable for much longer but in the interim, it was keeping him alive. Perhaps pon farr could be a blessing in its own way.

Amanda slumped against a tree and sighed. "Here's hoping the next pod that comes crashing through the atmosphere has the decency to land a little closer."

"Compared to the size of the planet, this most recent escape pod landed remarkably close to our own."

"Don't say that," she growled.

"It is true. The landing location is not truly random—the pod decides where to land based on complex algorithms relating to terrain and-"

"Wait, what do you mean it's not random?"

"What would be the function of an escape pod if it were to land over an open body of water?" he asked. "The passenger would be saved from harm in orbit only to die by drowning on a planet."

"Is there a way to predict where they might land?"

"Not with sufficient accuracy, though all three escape pods and Lieutenant Hornsby's shuttle are with a 148 kilometer radius of each other."

"So if we can survive the winter, come spring, we can organize some kind of search, that is, if we don't happen to see a pod land in the meantime. I wonder if there's some kind of way to detect one coming through the atmosphere. Do you think you could build something like that?"

Sarek was too busy dwelling on her optimism that they would live to fully consider her question. She continued to ramble on before eventually clapping her hands together. They were covered in thick gloves which considerably muted the sound, but it was evident she was seeking his attention.

"Have you heard a word I've been saying?"

"You want to find other escape pods."

"Well, _yeah_ , isn't that how we get out of here? You said if we just found one more-"

"Reaching another escape pod during the midst of winter will be difficult or even impossible if it is more than a few kilometers away from our own."

"That's why I said we can wait until spring."

"We lack the food for both of us to survive four months of winter."

She ripped the blue piece of cloth from the lower half of her face. Had she always been so beautiful? "We'll find a way." Her resolve only made her more appealing.

Sarek looked away. "What do you propose? Hunting animals and eating their flesh?" he retorted, frustrated and unable to conceal it.

Her face contorted into a shocked and sour shape at his suggestion. "We could- we could try and stretch out our current rations with the tree bark. It's gross but it is edible. We could-"

"I will not survive the winter," he snapped.

"What are you _talking_ about? Why not?"

He took a deep breath. Why had he said such a thing? It was true, he would not survive unless he could resolve his pon farr, but why had he just admitted this to her?

" _Sarek_? What are you talking about?"

He turned his back to her. "I- I am not well."

It was several seconds before she replied, "How so?"

"I- I am- it is a difficult thing-"

His words were interrupted by an animalistic scream from the valley below. He saw Amanda scramble to her feet and clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. For a few moments, Sarek forgot to feel sorry for himself as he watched a vicious slaughter fifty meters away, but it was difficult to determine exactly what was happening.

A dark mass, moving in a way that reminded him of a school of fish or a flock of birds, swarmed a much larger creature with a strange three-pronged trunk. It was furiously stamping and running in circles, trying to avoid being swallowed by the tight formation of tiny predators. That's when it occurred to him that he was witnessing the same animals which had attacked Amanda go after something more than three times her size. There were more of them, _thousands_ rather than dozens, but it was disturbing to watch all the same.

They were upon the animal's back now but it wasn't surrendering so easily. It charged ahead in an effort to outrun them, but the animals were faster. It was almost beautiful to witness such perfect cooperation among these predators and Sarek found himself momentarily transfixed until it occurred to him that the prey animal was driving the whole scene directly toward them in its frantic effort to escape.

Amanda was already pulling on his arm by the time they both started running in an easterly direction. They leapt over fallen trees and stumbled over rocks and didn't stop running for quite some time, but eventually oxygen and fuel starved muscles forced Amanda to slow to a jog, then a staggering yet speedy walk.

She had pulled the blue cloth from her face during their retreat, probably in an effort to breathe more easily, revealing a usually pale face that was now bright red. It gave her the appearance of lush vitality and Sarek found himself desperate to touch her. He took several steps back and tucked his hands beneath his armpits.

"What were those things? What _was_ that?" she panted.

"I believe they are the same creatures that attacked us the night you broke your leg."

She put her hands on her knees and leaned forward, adjusting the rucksack on her back and gasping for air. "They're like- like land piranhas or something."

"What is a land piranha?"

"There's no such thing, or rather, I didn't think there was. But if I needed a term to describe whatever those things are, that would definitely be it."

"I believe it is also what killed the predator near our pod the night before our departure."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep tonight."

But she did sleep, _eventually_. When they stopped walking several hours later, they built a roaring fire and kept close to it. Sarek watched her as she slept, willing to defend her against any predator that would harm her but knowing full well they would both likely die if that swarm of rodents came for them.

He sat awake and studied the tricorder, believing they would reach their escape pod tomorrow late in the afternoon. He would need to continue to cut wood—their supplies would not provide sufficient heat for more than three weeks—but he wondered whether that was the best use of his time. He could begin composing instructions on how to link the deuterium power cells together and fly the escape pod out of orbit so that if another pod did make it to the surface, she could escape without him. There was no need for her to die also and she'd proven herself quite intelligent and capable.

But she also lacked a fundamental understanding of physics, engineering, and space travel. She had claimed as much. Sarek was certainly no expert either, but an advanced degree in astrophysics and a rudimentary comprehension of warp engines would likely be sufficient to allow them to at least break orbit of the planet and get them out of the temporal gravitational well so they could make contact with someone in the Federation.

He didn't know where to even begin trying to explain all the things that needed to be done in order to ready her escape pod for interplanetary travel. He didn't have time to impart sixty-eight years of education and experience on her. His mind wandered back to the possibility of broaching the subject of pon farr with her again.

He had nearly confessed his situation to her in a moment of weakness. Maybe it really was the best course of action. He had nothing to lose by explaining it to her, aside from his dignity, but failing to explain it to her would certainly result in the loss of his life, and probably hers. Perhaps he should tell her. Perhaps he had a _duty_ to tell her and allow her to make an informed decision for herself. No, no, that couldn't be logical.

But how could he know what was logical anymore?

* * *

**Arg-117P: Day 38**

Amanda's eyes drifted open, blinked several times, then narrowed. She hated sleeping on a pile of seat cushions. Turning only her head, she looked to Sarek's side of the pod. He was nowhere in sight, though that was hardly a surprise. The man was always gone before sunrise and usually only returned after sunset. He only seemed to come around for food and occasional shelter, insisting that he needed to cut more wood to sustain them through the winter.

It would be an understatement to say she was worried about him. She couldn't decide whether it was depression—could Vulcans even get depressed?—or something else entirely. She didn't know him all that well, but she knew him well enough to know he wasn't himself. There was no point in asking him about it because he would only do what he always did whenever she asked if he was alright—he'd get that blank look on his face, clear his throat several times, and flee into the frigid landscape to chop firewood and not return for many hours.

She didn't care what it took, next time he was in the pod with her, she was going to get answers, even if it involved blocking the door to keep him from leaving or pinning him down and sitting on his chest and tickling him until he broke. She laughed. It wasn't like she was physically strong enough to hold him down, but it was the principle of the thing.

Sarek's behavior was frightening her. She could understand if he was having some kind of mental breakdown, given that she'd had one of her own shortly after his arrival. Granted, he was Vulcan and Vulcans weren't exactly renowned for their mental instability, so that in and of itself was scary. But she needed him to be ok, not only for his sake, but for hers.

She turned her mind from her increasingly unpredictable Vulcan roommate to more present matters. What should she do first? Wash her face? Tend to the fire? It took some coaxing to peel the blankets away from her body and heave herself to her feet. She realized it was not nearly as cold as it usually was in the mornings, so perhaps Sarek had already added more logs, but going to check meant donning snow boots and she wasn't ready for that kind of commitment less than a minute after waking up.

She stretched her arms over her head and groaned. How long had they been on this awful planet now? A month? It had to be more than that. It suddenly occurred to her she didn't know and she stood for nearly a minute trying to make sense of the days. Why hadn't they thought to keep a log like Hornsby? Probably because it would be too depressing.

She smacked her dry lips and ran her tongue over her top teeth. It was like fur had sprouted up on them in the middle of the night. She felt unwashed and disgusting, but she felt like that pretty much all the time now. How she missed sonic showers.

The longer she stood there appreciating the fact that she smelled of halitosis and body odor, the more annoyed she became until she finally couldn't stand it anymore. She made her way to the lavatory, but discovered the small three-liter water jug they kept for personal hygiene was bone dry. Sarek must have used up the last of it and not refilled it, the inconsiderate ass.

Unfortunately, the two larger ten-liter jugs that normally sat by the door were missing, along with the axe. Maybe Sarek wasn't so inconsiderate after all—he'd probably just gone to refill their water supply. There was no telling when he would return but she didn't necessarily have to wait for him to come back just so she could brush her teeth: there was plenty of water just outside their front door in the form of snow.

The weary laziness slowed her a bit, but eventually she pulled on her boots and coat and trudged out the door with a metal pot in hand. She was greeted with a dull landscape of dead trees and patches of snow that had accumulated in random patterns based on the whim of the wind and the occasional sunlight peeking through heavy clouds.

She scooped several handfuls of snow into the pot, carried it to the stone fireplace Sarek had built just outside the pod, and set it on the edge. The snow quickly disintegrated into liquid, but Amanda decided to wait for it to boil. She heaped several more handfuls of snow in and watched them quickly disappear as well. Maybe it would be smart to start collecting water this way, given the pond was a bit of a walk and there were already at least fifteen centimeters of ice covering it.

She was just starting to think she had enough water to at least brush her teeth and wash her face, feet, and armpits when sudden dread filled every fiber of her being. She took several steps backward and scanned the horizon, wondering if instinct was trying to alert her to some unseen danger. Every sense jumped into focus and several seconds later, she found herself sprinting in the direction of the pond.

When asked about it later, Amanda was never able to explain the events of the next twenty minutes, particularly how she'd known Sarek was in danger and how she'd summoned the physical strength to get him to safety. She reached the pond in lightning fast time and saw him swinging his arms in a lethargic motion over the pond's icy crust, the lower half of his body submerged beneath it and kicking up slushy water. His face was a shocking shade of brilliant green and his mouth locked open in an O shape. He had fallen through the ice.

" _Sarek_!" she screamed, her voice cracking from panic and the exertion of running.

He was about fifteen meters from shore—what had he been _thinking_ , going out that far?—and fighting to lift himself up onto the ice, but it was too thin to support his weight and fell away beneath him with every attempt he made. What could she do? If she ran out there to rescue him she'd end up in the same predicament.

In an unexpected moment of clarity, she spied a stout tree branch approximately three meters long near the shore, grabbed it, and began to shuffle across the pond. It wasn't long before she sensed the ice flexing beneath her feet so she slid onto her belly to distribute her weight and crawled from there.

"Grab the branch!" she cried, her breath unleashing little ribbons of fog.

Sarek didn't even seem to acknowledge her but continued his vain efforts to hoist himself from the freezing water on his own. She had terrible leverage on her stomach, but managed to thrust the branch further closer to him. "Sarek, grab it!"

That time he complied. She spun around and crawled back toward the branch's end, stood, and pulled with all her might, praying the ice would hold beneath her. He was impossibly heavy but the adrenaline pulsing through her body made her impossibly strong, and after several false starts, Sarek was out of the water and being pulled along the ice on his stomach. She pulled and pulled and didn't stop until he was several meters up onto the bank.

"Sarek, are you ok?"

No response. Amanda swore under her breath, sank to her knees, and flipped him onto his back. Aside from the violent shaking and a pair of wide eyes staring up at her, there was almost no indication he was _alive_. He seemed to be in a deep state of shock and she doubted he would get better laying out in the snow like this.

"Get up," she yelped, grabbing his hands to pull him to his feet. "Sarek, _get up_."

He gave no outward sign that he'd even heard her. "Sarek, please, I can't carry you. Please, _please_ get up!"

Nothing. Another shot of adrenaline raced out of her gut and into her extremities. She wasn't just going to let him die, not after everything they'd already been through. She dug her fingers into the collar of his coat and pulled, dragging him up the hill in a sloppy series of stumbles, swearing, and grunting. Eventually she decided it would be easier to drag him by the hood of his coat and once they made it through the trees and into the open field where the pod lay, dragging him became easier because the snow had leveled many parts of the terrain and reduced the friction of the ground beneath it.

She was dizzy and out of breath and the joints of her fingers throbbed against the strain of trying to maintain a grip on his hood, but she didn't stop until she reached the ramp, and even then she only paused slide her hands under his armpits and drag him backward into the pod. He was alive, but barely. His eyes were closed and his body was growing limp but he was drawing in rapid, shallow breaths. The pod's interior was much warmer than outside but she needed to get him warm _fast_.

"It's going to be ok," she announced, more to convince herself than to comfort him. "You're going to be ok."

She grabbed the neatly folded blankets from his bed and the wad of blankets from hers and dropped them at his side, but the first rule of staying warm was staying dry. Blankets would be worthless in conjunction with his wet clothing. She tried peeling his coat off but it was slow going, as he was on the verge of unconsciousness and unable to cooperate. So she tore the interior of the pod apart, upending boxes and containers until she found a knife. Then she started to cut.

Soon he was naked to the waist and she pulled two of the blankets around his pale, cold torso. "We're going to get you warm," she asserted, fighting back tears. "Sarek, can you hear me? _Sarek_?"

She crawled over his legs and dragged him nearer to the chimney, then she began the business of cutting away his trousers and pulling off his boots. It was tough work, fumbling with his bootlaces with her aching, stiff fingers but two minutes later, she had him in his underwear and swaddled in every blanket available.

"Sarek, can you hear me?" she pleaded, sitting behind him and pulling the top half of his body into her lap. She furiously rubbed his arms and chest to stimulate circulation. "Sarek, _please_. Please come back to me."

He was breathing but he wouldn't wake up. A few tears started to trickle down her cheeks as she continued to beg him to wake up. She brushed the wet tendrils of hair away from his forehead and felt his cheeks; they were like ice. She hugged him tighter still, stroking his hair and sobbing. She was considering adding more logs on the fire and finding a way to improvise some hot water bottles when he suddenly choked.

"Sarek? _Sarek_ , talk to me. Can you hear me?"

A garbled moan escaped his lips. It was better than nothing and it made her heart sing. "Sarek, I'm here," she exclaimed. "You're going to be ok. Please talk to me."

"S-s-so-so-some…"

Her heart nearly burst out of her chest with relief. "Some? Some _what_?"

"S-some-someone-s-s-is… in…"

The hairs on the back of her neck started to stand up. What someone was he talking about? Was he trying to _warn_ her? "Sarek, who are you talking about? Who is this someone?"

"In t-t-t-the k-k-k-it-itchen w-w-with Din-ah..." he mumbled.

She could scarcely believe her ears. "Are you singing _Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinah_?" she laughed.

His eyes remained closed by his mouth twisted into a tiny smile. "Some-someone…"

"It's ok," she sniffed, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "I don't care what you say, just keep talking. Just let me know you're ok."

"S-s-some… one's in…"

"The kitchen with Dinah, strumming on the old banjo," Amanda finished for him, wiping the tears away from her face. His eyelids rolled back suddenly, revealing a pair of dark irises and an unfocused gaze.

"Sarek?" she whispered, gently touching his cheek. "I'm here. Can you talk to me? You can keep singing, if you want."

He blinked several times, then his eyes grew wide, not out of obvious fright, but something _else_. Something that looked almost _hungry_. With strength he wouldn't have been capable of just moments ago, he wrestled his arms free of the blankets and grabbed her face with both hands, sliding his fingers down along her jaw and neck. She fought back at first, wildly thinking he was delirious and trying to strangle her, until his hands seemed to find their intended target.

Then they both froze. A tremendous sensation coursed through her body, pulsing back and forth until she was teetering on the verge of what could only be described as the most intense sexual gratification imaginable. She gasped and sensed the proper thing to do would be to pull away, but she was also curious to follow this bizarre turn of events to their inevitable conclusion. This feeling was familiar somehow, almost like the night she'd tried patching up his hands, only it was so far beyond that and so much better.

Then she felt herself falling, sinking, drowning. What had just happened? The connection was broken and she cried out, not out of physical pain exactly, but more like the pain of being separated from something she held most dear. Sarek was lying slack in her arms, unconscious and bundled up in their blankets. His breathing was strong and regular and color was beginning to return to his pale face.

"Sarek?" she whispered.

There was no response, but she hadn't really expected one. The other thing she didn't really expect was the sudden realization that she cared deeply about the man lying half-frozen in her lap.


	16. There Came a Storm

**Arg-117P: Day 39**

Amanda sat with Sarek through the night, watching him toss and turn. There were many times he would fall into a fit of spasms and shivering. There was no question he was sick, but was it from falling through the ice or something else? Something he'd eaten? Hadn't he said on the trek back to their pod that he wasn't well? Why hadn't she pressed him for more information? Probably because he'd been interrupted by a horde of vicious little animals taking down a fully grown armadillaphant.

He was _burning_ up. Several hours earlier, she'd pulled the blankets back from his body and was shocked to find a splotchy, green rash all over her chest. His veins seemed to be bulging from his skin too. She used the medical tricorder from the first aid kit to check his vital signs, but she didn't know what she was supposed to be looking for. What was normal blood pressure for a Vulcan?

What would her father have told her to do? She scowled and fought back tears. For something like this, he'd have told her to stop messing around and call emergency services.

Amanda checked the cloth on his forehead and discovering it was warm and damp, wrung it out and submerged it in the half melted bucket of snow, then replaced it. He moaned and turned his head toward her, his mouth forming soundless syllables. She brushed his wiry black hair away from the cloth and took a deep breath.

"Sarek, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm scared."

A tear started to roll down her cheek. The idea that he might die was too much to bear, not because she needed him to help her get off the planet, but just because she needed _him_. How had she never noticed how much she cared about him before? _Had_ she even cared this much before? Before _what_?

She didn't know. She was having a hard time thinking. She lie down next to him, rested her forehead on his bicep, and trailed her fingers down his forearm until she was holding his limp hand.

"I'm so sorry you've been suffering," she sniffed, swallowing hard. "And you _have_ been suffering, haven't you?"

She didn't expect an answer, but she didn't know what she expected. All she could do was continue. "I'm so glad I found you. Well, I'm not glad you had to end up here, but- you know what I mean. I'm just- I'm glad I got to know you and thank you for everything you've done for us. For _me_. Thank you. Please don't die. I need you. I _love_ you."

She began to sob and buried her face in the side of his arm. Why wouldn't he wake up? What was she supposed to do? She ran through the same circle of questions until she eventually wore herself out. She awoke to the sound of screaming wind and icy air rushing over her body.

It was difficult to focus through the fog of sleep but she quickly realized the pod's hatch was open and Sarek was stumbling down the ramp wearing nothing but his underwear. " _Sarek_?"

She scrambled to her feet and raced after him. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep but the sky suggested it was twilight, though it was difficult to tell through the growing storm. She caught up to him at the base of the ramp, grabbed his arm, and shouted, "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

He wrenched it back with alarming strength. "I- I need- leave me!"

"You're wandering out into a snowstorm in your _underwear_! You really expect me to let you do this?"

"I- I- I cannot- I can-"

"Get inside!" she shrieked, her voice cracking and dampened by the howl of the wind.

He said something unintelligible but when she grabbed his arm again, he didn't refuse her. Once back inside the pod with the hatch closed, she shook the snow out of her hair and turned to face him. "What is _wrong_ with you?" Amanda growled. "What the hell was that?"

He blinked and shook his head in confusion. "What was what?"

"That!" she screamed, pointing to the door, before waving her arms around their shared space and yelling, "This! You fell into the pond and almost froze to death and now you're wandering out into a winter storm practically naked!"

His glassy eyes tilted downward to his diminished frame. He clenched his jaw and flew toward his side of the pod, frantically pulling on his trousers. "You had no right-"

"No _right_? You were soaking wet and in shock! You once stripped me down, if I remember correctly!"

"You do not understand, you-"

"No, I _don't_ understand!" she shouted over him. "Why are you acting this way? You're not eating, you're not sleeping..."

The anger drained from his face, leaving only confusion and panic. "I- I am- I-"

" _What_?" she snapped, frustrated at his inability to just speak his mind and also slightly guilty that she was yelling at him for something that was so clearly uncomfortable for him to talk about. She softened her tone, crossed her arms, and took a step forward. "What _is_ it, Sarek? You can tell me."

"It is a very private matter," he replied, his voice almost cracking.

Hearing the distress in his voice threatened to bring tears to Amanda's eyes. If he weren't Vulcan, she would have wanted to hug him. "I don't want to pry, but I'm very worried about you. If there's something I can do to help, _anything_ , I'll do it."

" _Anything_?" he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity and hope.

Something about his tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She wondered whether it was correct to say she would literally do _anything_. There were probably many things she wouldn't do, such as killing someone, but she doubted he would request something so extreme. Sarek was her only companion and had saved her life on several occasions, so she really couldn't fathom him saying something so repulsive that she would be forced to refuse.

"Just tell me what you need, Sarek."

"It is a delicate thing," he gasped, pacing back to the other side of the pod and wringing his hands. "A _private_ thing."

"Yeah, you said that already," she sighed. "If it's private or embarrassing or whatever, I _promise_ your secret is safe with me. And look around you: who would I tell anyway?"

Hours seemed to pass in the ten or so seconds it took him to respond. "I am quite ill."

Though she'd suspected it for some time, her heart still sank. She swallowed hard and asked, "How so?"

"I have- many Vulcan males- there is a condition. It is called pon farr."

"So what does that mean? Is it serious? Are you going to die? Is there some kind of treatment or cure?" Even though she'd exhausted many hours contemplating all the ways they could escape from this planet, Amanda's mind started racing through all the same possibilities, only instead of getting home to her family, her goal had shifted to getting Sarek to a doctor.

"It is not a disease or an illness as much as a natural, biological process," he replied, slumping down onto one of the seats by the latrine.

"A natural, biological process?"

"Yes."

"You're going to have to elaborate."

He inhaled deeply through his nose and rested his shaking hands on his knees. "For Vulcan males who follow logic, they are afflicted once approximately every seven years with pon farr."

She waited for him to continue but all he could do was stare down at the floor. "Um, I don't know what pon farr is. Could you explain it to me?"

His face twisted into a look of disgust and he looked away, leaving Amanda feeling slightly queasy. It just didn't seem right, seeing such open emotion in his face. He began to ramble about logic and hormones, but none of it made any sense.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but how does this have anything to do with you not eating or sleeping?"

"I must take a mate or I will die."

Amanda became a statue, frozen in place by shock and confusion. _Surely_ her ears had deceived her. "I'm sorry- you said, you have to… take a mate? Or die?"

"Yes."

"Take a mate? Or _die_?"

"Why must you continue to repeat the statement?" he snapped.

"Uhm, uh- when you say take a mate, you mean… what _do_ you mean?"

"I must find a consenting partner and engage in mental transference and sexual intercourse."

If there were ever a statement that practically demanded an overreaction, that one would be it, but by some miracle Amanda managed to restrain her reaction to a pair of raised eyebrows and instantly sweaty palms. She repeated his statement inside her head several times, trying to decide if there was some other way she could interpret his words, but "engage in sexual intercourse" was literally the most objective and explicit a way possible to describe having sex.

Once she'd decided that he was actually claiming he needed to have sex with her or die, her mind raced ahead to the theory that he had to be either joking or lying, but as he'd already told her dozens of times, he didn't tell jokes. And he was Vulcan, so she doubted he was in the habit of telling lies either. Were he _anyone_ else, it would have seemed like the sleaziest pickup line imaginable: " _Hey lady, have sex with me or I'll die_."

"Please respond," he whispered.

"I don't know what to say," she croaked, her throat suddenly so dry her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth.

"I would never ask- I would never-"

"You need me to have sex with you?" Amanda interrupted.

"I- I need you- I urge you to do what you think is acceptable."

Amanda uncrossed her arms and rubbed her face, taking extra time to massage her forehead with her fingertips. She took several steps back and half sat, half fell into the seat directly opposite his. "I don't know what to say. I'm human, I mean- is this- would it even work with a human? Does it- are we- our species I mean, are we- um, _compatible_?"

He shuddered. "There have been instances of matings between our species in the past. I believe the biology and mechanics are generally similar."

This gave Amanda pause. On many occasions she'd found herself thinking that Sarek was attractive, both physically and otherwise, but she'd never seriously given any consideration to acting on her little crush, mostly because he was _Vulcan_. She didn't have any objections to interspecies relationships but she recalled the awkward talks in middle school sex education about what to do if she found herself wanting to be physical with someone from a different species.

She could close her eyes and still see the cheesy production Miss Jelal had shown, the one featuring a Tellarite boy and a human girl holding hands and exchanging cringe-worthy dialogue. What had the main point of the whole thing been? It's ok to like someone from a different species but check with a doctor first? How was she supposed to remember? She'd been too busy giggling with her friends in the back row to pay close attention.

"Your silence suggests you are deliberating."

She hadn't been expecting him to speak so the sound of his voice startled her. "I'm trying to make sense of this. If I don't have sex with you… you just… _die_?"

"The levels of yamareen in my blood will eventually reach toxic levels, resulting in my death."

"And having sex is the only way-"

He interrupted her to say, "It is _not_ , though it is the only way I have ever successfully resolved it in the past."

There was so much to digest in that statement. "Wait, so this has happened to you _before_?"

"Yes, as I explained it occurs approximately every seven years, though this cycle seems to have been accelerated by the austere conditions we have endured."

"If you resolved this by having sex before, then does that mean- do you- is there someone waiting for you back on Vulcan? A _wife_?" Amanda swallowed hard, suddenly remembering how he'd explained that many Vulcan marriages were arranged.

"I am currently not bonded to anyone."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I am, to use a human turn of phrase, unmarried. I am free to seek my own mate."

Amanda exhaled and crossed her legs at the ankles. "So if I don't have sex with you, you'll die, and if you die, I won't get off this planet and I will also probably die not long after."

The shame and disgust that emerged on his face were painfully evident. She closed her eyes. "And there's nothing else you can do-"

"I have attempted every single means of resolving this," he interjected, his voice almost hostile. "I would have _never_ involved you in this if I had any other choice."

"But what is it about _sex_? If it's just about sex, couldn't you uh- you know, take matters into- into your own hands, so to speak?" By the time she finished speaking, she was whispering and blushing furiously.

"I am not well-versed in human euphemisms."

"Uh- I meant, couldn't you…" Amanda would have rather crawled into a hole and died rather than finish her sentence, but it seemed like a valid question. "Couldn't you _manually_ stimulate yourself?"

He sat up straight. "Do you imply I should masturbate?"

Amanda groaned and buried her face in her hands. She would have rather discussed her favorite sexual positions with her boss or grandparents than hear Sarek utter the word " _masturbate_."

"I don't- I don't know- look, I have no idea how any of this works."

"There is more to the resolution of pon farr than the simple act of mating. It requires a joining of the minds as well, a…"

Amanda dared to look in his direction, but her eyes remained transfixed on his feet. Sarek sighed and paced in several tight circles.

"What do you mean a joining of the minds? Like the mind meld stuff you were telling me about?"

"Yes," he huffed. "Precisely."

"Is that what happened earlier? After I got you back into the pod, you grabbed my face and-"

" _What_? I could not have-"

"But you did," she insisted. "You were half-conscious and laying in my lap, then you got this weird look in your eyes and grabbed my face and it-"

She stopped short of telling him how arousing it had been but she had the vague and very embarrassing sense that he already knew. "So, is _that_ what you were doing? Trying to join your mind to mine?"

"I was not- I did not-"

"You _did_ ," she insisted.

"I am sorry. I was not in control of myself. It is the pon farr-"

"If I have sex with you, this pon farr will be cured?"

"As I said, there is more than the mere act of-"

"You need to read my mind too," she interrupted, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. She could probably bring herself to have sex with him, however awkward and uncomfortable that would be, but to allow him to explore her mind—all her silly thoughts and petty feelings and embarrassing memories just laid bare to him—that was something else entirely.

"The type of meld I would need to perform does not generally involve the exploration of cognitive processes. It is more correct to say I would probe your emotions."

"So not reading my mind—just reading my _feelings_ ," she replied, projecting weariness and sarcasm. What if she let him do it and he found out about she'd be attracted to him? "And it won't work if you don't-"

" _No_ ," he snapped.

"I'm sorry," she replied, tears threatening to spring up at the corners of her eyes as the full weight of the situation before them finally started to come crashing down.

His body stiffened and he took a step toward her. "I do not wish to cause you emotional distress. I am sorry that this has happened. I-"

"I'll do it," she blurted, shocking herself as much as him. "Let's just do it. It's fine."

A long silence passed before Sarek stuttered, "Y-you are- you are certain?"

"No, not really, but what choice do I have?"

"You are free to refuse me. It is an extraordinary request. There are-"

"We're facing some extraordinary circumstances," Amanda muttered. "For the first time in weeks I have some hope we might get out of here someday and I won't give up on that now. I need your help to get home and you need my help to- with- well, whatever this pon farr business is. We're getting out of here, Sarek, whatever it takes."

He clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists. "Thank you. And I am sorry."

Her breath caught in her throat as the incredibly awkward détente raced toward some kind of conclusion. They stared at each other for a time, both clearly desperate for the other person to make the first move. Amanda almost fancied herself as a young Victorian bride, forced into ignorance and modesty by societal convention and now suddenly confronted with the prospect of her wedding night.

"So, should we…" She sighed and finally managed to look him in the eye and what she saw broke her heart. He was clearly so miserable and ashamed that Amanda's tears threatened to return. Instinct made her move forward in several graceful steps and pull him into a hug. "This will be ok."

His body pressed into hers for the briefest of moments before pulling away, leaving Amanda flailing around in self-doubt. Was he disgusted by the thought of having sex with her or by the fact that he'd been forced to ask her to have sex? Undeterred, she reached for his shaking hands and clasped them between her own. It wasn't the first time she'd ever experienced this sensual feeling, but it was the first time she finally recognized that it stemmed entirely from joining their hands together.

"I- I am sorry," he breathed. He was trembling and it was frightening her.

"It's alright," she whispered, taking a half step forward and placing her hands on his chest. "This isn't your fault."

"I regret you have become involved in this."

"Let's just get it done."

He pulled his hands away from hers and held them out, clearly intending to touch her arms, but he hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"This is difficult-"

"I know I'm human and this has to be really weird because I'm pretty sure I'm not your type-"

"It has nothing to do with your humanity," he interrupted, taking several deep breaths. "You are… quite aesthetically appealing. It is- it is merely that- even in my current state, it is difficult to bring myself touch someone who does not wish to be touched."

She was stunned by the idea that he thought she might be "aesthetically appealing," especially when she wasn't bathing regularly. She ran her teeth over her top lip and retorted, "I didn't say I didn't want to be touched."

"You have never given the impression that you did."

"I guess I can see how you might think that," she groaned. "I don't know. I don't know what I want. I want you to _live_ , I know that much."

"Is there some way I can make this more bearable for you?"

She stifled a small chuckle. "I guess it would be more bearable if I thought you wanted to do this for any reason other than to not _die_."

"I agree."

"Can I admit something to you?"

"Do you require my permission to make a confession?"

"No, I guess not," she replied, crossing her arms and twisting her right wrist to scratch the side of her neck. "Uhm, anyway, there were a few times- I guess- I think you're handsome."

"I see. Thank you."

It was such a dispassionate and immediate response that it made her erupt into laughter.

His face flushed vivid green. "Why is that amusing?"

"I'm trying to tell you that over the past few weeks I've found myself… I just- I think I might be attracted to you. I mean, you saved my life and you're good-looking and you're very smart-"

"I might say the same of you."

Her jaw dropped. "You did an amazing job of hiding it."

"I am Vulcan."

She shot him a pained smile. "So you are."

He nodded but neither of them made any move toward the other. Embarrassment began to fill the silence and rather than go back to awkward ranting, Amanda said, "Do you mind if I clean myself up a little bit before we do this? I still haven't brushed my teeth from yesterday."

He gave another nod of his head. "I would also like to tend to my own hygiene."

Amanda retreated to the lavatory and once inside, leaned her back against the door and slid down until she was in a sitting position. There was no point in trying to make sense of any of this because the idea that she was about to have sex with a Vulcan ambassador that she'd known for a little more than three weeks because they were stranded on an isolated planet and he would die if she didn't was the most laughable thing she could imagine. She quickly brushed her teeth but took her time washing her body and shaving her legs and underarms.

Would Sarek think it weird that human females removed body hair? Probably. What logic could there be in getting rid of something that nature put there for a reason? Then again, Vulcans cut their hair into that weird bowl shape so maybe they were huge proponents of cultivating and taming hair. To be perfectly honest, she wasn't doing any of this for him as much as she was herself. It had been ages since she'd been with a man and it would be nice to feel like a woman again, or as much like a woman as she could under the circumstances. If he liked it, he liked it and if he didn't, too bad. He wasn't in a position to be choosy.

She didn't spend much time dwelling on the shape of her figure in the lavatory mirror. She was pale and skinny and her lovely chocolate-colored hair had more of a matte finish these days than a glossy shine. She brushed it out as best she could, then brushed her teeth again, sniffed her breath in her hand, applied some deodorant spray, and wandered back into the main cabin.

"All yours," she muttered, preferring to make a beeline for her row of cushions rather than make eye contact with him.

He took forever to get ready, which gave Amanda an unfortunate amount of time to think. Apparently he'd cleaned while she'd taken her turn in the lavatory. He'd picked up the mess she'd made when she'd been looking for a knife to cut his clothes off, folded up the blankets and tidied up the cushions on his own side of the room. He'd always been a tidy person, but under the circumstances, it gave him a bird-like quality, like a male who spent weeks intricately weaving twigs together to form the ideal nest to seduce a female.

She stood and shook her hands. Maybe she should push the cushions from her own makeshift bed over by his. It would make the bed twice as big, which was convenient because there would be twice as many people needing to occupy it. She wrung her hands again.

Now was no time to get nervous. Sarek was nervous enough and if they were _both_ nervous, well, it would probably just be twice as painfully awkward. Ideally they could have gone out on a date to a nice restaurant, had some casual conversation, and if things had gone well, they'd have gone back to her place, maybe had a few drinks, and allowed one thing to lead to another. Amanda, knowing it would have been a date would have worn nice underwear just in case and they both probably would have taken extra care in their usual preening rituals before meeting up. Well, that was how it probably would have happened if Sarek were human, which he wasn't.

Why did she miss dating all of a sudden? She'd never liked the scheduled and highly choreographed getting-to-know-you rules that people forced on themselves. Dating was tedious and annoying. Her failure to adequately follow those rules and secure a life partner in a reasonable amount of time was how she'd ended up on that stupid singles cruise in the first place. Of course, the Vulcan dating game of signing a contract at seven years old because your parents thought you would make a nice couple didn't really seem quite right either.

Maybe she missed dating because it was what she knew and she was definitely about to head into uncharted territory with this guy. She flopped back down on her seat cushion bed and balled her shaking hands into fists. She'd never been much of a drinker, but she wouldn't have said no to a shot or two of whiskey right about now to take the edge off.

Then she remembered the complementary liquor she'd stuffed in the side pockets of her bags when preparing to evacuate the _Juniper Carnegie_. She'd brought the little quarter liter bottles with her to trade and hadn't thought about them since: who was there to trade with? Happy to have some kind of task, she jumped to her feet and rustled around in the side compartments until she found her black carryon bag.

Inside she found not only the small bottles of spiced rum and vodka in the side pockets, but also two pairs of black underwear and a black bra in the bottom of the main compartment. No doubt their color had made them easy to overlook—black undergarments, black bag. She didn't care about the color all that much. They were _clean_. They were nice and unstained and had been laundered in a proper sonicator.

She glanced back at the lavatory door and wondered how much longer Sarek would be and if she would have time to slip them on before he came out. She supposed it probably didn't matter in the long run—he would be seeing her completely naked soon enough.

She exchanged her undergarments in record time, then she cracked open the bottle of spiced rum, took a hearty swig, and almost instantly felt drunk. She'd never had much in the way of a tolerance to this stuff, but nearly two months of sobriety coupled with malnutrition had conspired to make her an incredible lightweight where booze was concerned. It would probably be wise to stop; she didn't want to be slobbering drunk, just a little buzzed.

She tucked the bottle back into her bag and had just finished closing the compartment door when Sarek emerged from the lavatory. She leaned her back against the wall and bit her lower lip. He'd trimmed his hair and shaved, but he didn't look all that different. Neither did she, probably. Perhaps it was more important that they _felt_ different, like they'd made some kind of effort to be groomed and civilized.

"You look nice," she offered, wondering if it was a supremely dumb thing to say.

"You- you do as well."

"So… are you ready?"

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Do you- uh- I can bring my bedding over to your side of the room. I mean, if you want- I just thought-"

"Do whatever you must to be comfortable." It almost sounded like he was choking on his words.

Amanda nodded stiffly and pushed their beds together, doing her best to make it symmetrical, then sat down on one of the low cushions and pulled her knees to her chest. Sarek watched her with what could only be described as enormous trepidation.

"Would you like to sit?"

"Would you like me to sit?" he replied.

"I don't know how we're going to make this work if you stay where you are and I'm right here," she joked, wondering if taking a shot of the rum had been a good idea.

He shuffled to her side and sat down, adopting a posture similar to hers.

"It smells of ethanol," he remarked.

She grimaced. "I took a shot of rum. Do you want some?"

"I am not in the habit of consuming organic alcohols."

"I guess that makes sense," she mumbled. "Vulcans like being in control of themselves."

"Alcohol does not affect Vulcans as it does humans," he replied. "I abstain from it because I find the taste too bitter."

"Yeah, I guess it's hard to argue that most liquor is _tasty_."

"Then why did you drink it?"

"To give me courage," she laughed feebly.

"You are afraid?"

"No, not exactly. I just thought it might make me less nervous. In most human cultures, drinking alcohol before sex is practically a custom."

"I was unaware. Would you like me to consume some to honor your culture?"

She couldn't help that his very sincere offer made her burst into nervous laughter. "No, it's not _literally_ customary I guess. Alcohol is common on first dates, but this is hardly a date."

"By 'date' do you mean to imply courting?"

"Yes."

"I see."

"Are there any Vulcan rituals for this kind of thing?"

"There are, but I suppose we could disregard them."

"Would you feel more comfortable if we did them?"

"I do not believe any of them apply in this situation."

"Why not?"

"Pon farr rituals involve a marriage drum and lighting ceremonial candles, neither of which I currently possess, as well as the recitation of certain verses, which do not apply because we are not married."

Amanda felt her cheeks burn. "Then I guess we're skipping them."

"Yes."

They were both quiet for a time and just when Amanda looked down to see his hands were shaking furiously and began to say, "Should we start?," Sarek muttered, "I am very grateful to you."

"I'm grateful _for_ you," she replied.

Their faces slowly turned inward and for the first time in a long time, they looked into one another's eyes.

"Hi," she said, for lack of anything meaningful to say.

"Hello."

"So, how do we start?"

He exhaled sharply but didn't look away like she expected him to. "Will you permit me to bond with you?"

"I thought that was the whole point."

"I meant to imply that we should join our minds together."

"Oh, right. I don't know how to do that."

"You need not do anything. I will guide the process, I merely seek your consent."

Amanda swallowed the lump in her throat and gave the smallest nod of her head. Sarek raised his right hand to her face but pulled back when Amanda flinched. "Is this going to hurt or leave any kind of permanent damage?"

"There will be no pain," he replied stiffly. "But there may be a telepathic connection that could linger for a time."

She wanted to ask a thousand more questions but decided there was no point—if she refused, they would just be back where they started, which was with him dying of pon farr and her dying alone on Arg-117P. "Ok, I'm ready."

When his hand made contact with her face, a jolt of euphoria rushed through her body, sending warm trickles to the tips of her fingers and toes, much like the rum had done, only so much more _personal_. There was hunger and passion, but also unexpected tenderness and affection. She had no idea who initiated the first kiss, but soon their mouths were pressed together and their hands began to explore. When his left hand slid down the inside of her thighs, she jumped, causing Sarek to immediately break all physical contact with her.

"What's wrong?" she stammered, horrified she'd committed some serious Vulcan taboo.

"You were startled," he replied, his voice strained and ragged.

"Well, _yeah_ , but I guess I shouldn't have been. It's not like I don't know what's about to happen."

The look on his face was one of physical _pain_ and somehow she was able to appreciate that he desired to be with her at almost any cost, unless it would cause her discomfort. She didn't know how she knew, but she _knew_ , and that gentlemanly aspect only made him that much more attractive.

"I'm ok, I promise."

"I do not prefer that my touch should offend you."

"It doesn't," she insisted, reaching for his right hand again. " _Really_. I'll let you know if it does. And I hope you'd tell me if I did something you didn't like."

Her hand rested on his for several seconds until she sensed he was comfortable, then she lifted it back to her face. The sensation of bonding with him was far more relaxed that time and when their mouths met again, she was certain mutual attraction had drawn them together.

There were several more false starts—once when he gripped her breast too hard and another time when she began to undo his trousers and accidentally pinched a certain part of his anatomy—but every time clumsiness and cultural misunderstanding drove them apart, curiosity and the bond he was forging between them merged them back into one.

Piece by piece their clothes began to fall into heaps by their makeshift bed and by the time Amanda was lying on top of him completely naked, she felt more at ease than she could ever remember being in her life. Neither of them had made a move to initiate the physical act of sex yet, but the feel of his hands trailing along her ribs and spine and down toward her thighs and buttocks, only to return to her face and resuming bonding with her was pleasure enough. Rich vocalizations poured from her mouth in between the kisses and the warm sensation of arousal continued to build until she felt desperate to surrender to it, but just as she started to cry out in ecstasy, he carefully flipped her over onto her back and the feeling withered.

"Why did you stop?" she gasped, her eyes springing open.

She could barely make out the lines of his body in the dim light of the cabin. When had it gotten so _dark_? There was hardly any light coming through the tiny windows high up on the walls, whether from nightfall or the storm raging outside, she couldn't say.

She gently stroked his cheeks with her hands to direct him to look at her. "Sarek?"

Rather than answer her with words, he lowered himself onto her, carefully supporting the bulk of his weight with his left arm, then he lightly pressed his lips to hers, ran his right hand along her stomach, up her chest, and back into position on her jawline to resume their mind meld. It would mark the beginning of a three-day journey into each other's bodies and souls, punctuated only by the occasional need for food, sleep, and warmth and set against the screams of winter raging outside.


	17. Morningtide

**Arg-117P: Day 42**

He hadn't felt this rested or relaxed in years, which was a strange thing, given he had a naked human female tucked neatly against his own bare flesh. He also hadn't felt this mentally focused in weeks, which meant the worst of his pon farr was behind him. Previous experience told him it would be several weeks before he would once regain _complete_ mastery of his emotions, but he was already seeing vast improvement in his condition.

Almost as if to test his belief that he really could maintain control, he stole a glance at Amanda. The familiar sensations of love and almost overwhelming devotion that had coursed through him during the past three days threatened to devour him, but he closed his eyes, centered himself, and with a little effort, managed to subdue those feelings of maniacal affection into simple, warm regard.

It would be illogical to deny he cared deeply for this woman in ways that extended far beyond gratitude for her generous gesture of permitting him to mate with her. Reflecting on it now, he supposed he had cared for her well before their initial mating. In some sense, he'd cared for her since the moment he'd met her, but the nature of his affection for Amanda was complex, evolving, and difficult to define.

At first, she had been an ally, a companion who had freed him from his escape pod and provided him with food and shelter when he'd had none. Then she had become a friend. And now she was a mate; not one he would have ever chosen for himself under different circumstances, but a mate nonetheless. What did a term such _mate_ imply?

She was a person with whom he had mated, but in his native tongue as well as Federation Standard, _mate_ was also a word describing an individual with whom one was bonded or closely associated with. She was _a_ mate, but she was not _his_ mate, a subtle distinction but an essential one simply because neither of them was free to choose.

Freedom of choice required more than one option and she couldn't choose him for her mate if he were literally the only individual to choose from. It was possible they would die together on this isolated planet, in which case, such a distinction would be largely irrelevant, but the thought of returning to civilization and being parted from her repulsed him.

What did logic tell him? He had forged these feelings for her when he was not in his logical mind, so perhaps they were a lingering illusion of pon farr. She shuddered and wriggled closer to him and the urge to wake her and mate with her again flickered through his mind, but it would be wrong to seek the sexual satisfaction of her body when he no longer required it. She had consented to assist him through pon farr and now that it had largely been resolved, any further sexual contact would be taking advantage of her person.

Beyond that—though he needed no reason beyond that—her body had not fared as well as his during their past three days of coupling. The persistent melding had kept him attuned to her senses and kept him from causing her pain, but it was obvious she could not physically endure much more. During their most recent mating four hours ago, she had been fatigued and he'd sensed deep aches in her muscles and rawness in the more sensitive areas of her body.

She shivered again, drawing her body still closer to his. He steeled his mind against the involuntary arousal her unconscious action was certain to produce and looked closely at her face in the dim light. Given the falling temperature in the escape pod, it was likely she was cold and unconsciously seeking a source of warmth; a warm-blooded creature responding to a stimulus.

It had been several hours since he'd last tended the fire in the outdoor chimney and it was surely little more than smoking coals by now. He should add more wood, but he could see no way to extricate himself from the makeshift bed without waking Amanda. He watched her for several more minutes and soon the atmosphere inside the pod shifted from darkness to gray light as dawn began to break over the horizon.

When she fidgeted a third time he glanced down and observed Amanda's eyes were slowly blinking. An upward tilt of her chin caused their eyes to meet, and once they did, she offered a thin smile and a small laugh.

"Good morning. At least, I _think_ it's morning."

"It is," he confirmed. It occurred to Sarek how odd it was to hear her voice aloud, after having spent most of the past few days growing accustomed to the sensation of communicating with her telepathically.

"What day is it?"

"The stardate is impossible to calculate, however-"

"No, I mean, how many days- ahm, how many days have we… you know?"

"It is difficult to determine. My mental faculties during the initial hours were quite poor, but I estimate we have been engaged in periodic mating for approximately seventy hours."

Amanda laughed again, sending a red flush through her cheeks and across her chest. "Three days. Wow. Doesn't seem like that long."

There was a pause that she filled by biting her lip, then added, "Are you- are you _better_?"

"I believe so. I must again express my gratitude to you-"

"Oh stop. It was- I didn't-" The light and joyful expression on her face faded and Sarek sensed she was growing embarrassed. "I'm glad you're going to be ok."

Three days of mating and mind melding had forged a rather unique bond between them. It would be incorrect to say that the lingering link enabled him to feel what Amanda felt, but it made him keenly attuned to her feelings. What he detected in her now was an amalgam of emotions so complex he couldn't even begin to identify what any of them were. Sad? Pleased? Surprised? Offended? It was as though she were all of these things and none of these things simultaneously.

Reflecting on it now, it seemed apparent that while Vulcans felt emotions more deeply than humans, human experienced emotions that were far more nuanced and convoluted. Not for the first time in his life, he felt grateful for logic.

He nearly asked if she would like him to rebuild the fire while she dressed when she asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

"You need not ask permission to make an inquiry."

"Well, it seems like the polite thing to do."

"You may ask what you like, just as I may refuse to answer."

The muscles of her throat tensed and she slowly drew her body several centimeters away from his. It was a small distance, barely noticeable, but he greatly disliked the action. She was… uncomfortable, perhaps?

"I think I understand why you waited so long to tell me what was wrong. It's a pretty awkward thing to admit under any circumstances."

"That is not a question."

"No, but what I don't understand is, before we uh- in the days before, it seemed like- I don't know- it seemed like you were trying to- ugh, I don't know."

"It would seem as though you do know. Furthermore, you have still to pose a question." She did not provide a response, so he added, "Speak your mind."

"Why did you run into a snowstorm in your underwear?"

He nearly automatically replied he had done no such thing, but he hesitated. Sarek perused his memories of the days immediately preceding mating with Amanda; they were disjointed and non-sensical. He had a vague impression of shivering naked in her lap, of cutting wood until he thought he would collapse, of falling through ice into frigid water. When had he been on ice? _Why_ had he been on ice? In his mind's eye, he could see he was carrying water containers—perhaps he had been collecting water and had ventured out too far onto the pond. Then he was struck by a shocking revelation.

"Sarek?"

"There is no logic in pon farr," he offered. "It is a time when we are guided by instinct."

" _Instinct_? Instinct made you wander out into a snow storm?"

"Instinct- instinct is a powerful and ancient tool essential for self-preservation, as well as the preservation of the group."

"Uh, yeah, I know what instincts are and why we have them, but it doesn't make a lot of sense that it would make you behave like that. If instinct is supposed to keep you alive, where was it when you ran off in the snowstorm or when you fell through the ice?"

"I believe my subconscious mind was attempting to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe I was trying to distance myself from you for fear I would-" He allowed his sentence to end there, abruptly and without explanation.

"For fear that you would _what_? Hurt me? Force yourself on me? You're not capable of that."

"You cannot know what I'm capable of."

"You think I don't see you? I just spent the past three days sharing my whole self with you, but you showed me who you are too. You're not capable of that."

"You told me I bonded with you without your consent. I have no recollection of doing this, but I accept your accusation as the truth. I was not in my right mind and if I am capable of doing that-"

"You're _not_. You're not capable, I mean. You had a momentary… I don't know. Snap? Lapse? They happen."

"I am not in the habit of experiencing them."

"To be fair, you've had a few over the past week, but knowing what I know now, it makes sense. That being said, I'm half convinced you were _trying_ to fall into the pond."

"I was," he agreed, slightly surprised by his confession.

"Why? What were you _thinking_? You know, aside from some twisted idea that you were trying to save me from yourself?"

"I have attempted to explain on numerous occasions that rational thought is incompatible with pon farr, particularly once the plak tow has begun."

"Maybe it wasn't rational, but what was going through your head to make you want to drown yourself in a frozen pond?"

"I do not know," he lied. "I cannot explain my actions."

"Were you trying to hurt yourself?"

"I do not know," he repeated, disdainful of concealing the truth from her.

She gave him a pained expression but the look on her face quickly turned sober. "I obviously can't know what it's like to live my life by logic and then suddenly have to go through something like what you're describing. I'm sure it's very disorienting."

"Yes."

"You know, not long after you got here and you started explaining how we were probably going to die here, I was in a pretty dark place."

"I am aware I am a poor judge of human emotion, but even I could discern this."

She rolled her eyes. "The point is, I did some reckless things just to remind myself I was alive. This probably sounds crazy, but this one time I actually stripped naked and waded into the pond."

"I recall."

"What do you mean _you recall_?"

How could he have allowed himself to admit such a thing to her? His pon farr may have been largely corrected, but he would require very intensive meditation to restore the sharpness of his mind. The ugly look on her face indicated she required an explanation, so he did the most logical thing and told the truth.

"I was seeking several trees to build the frame of the firewood shelter, but after finding none near our camp that would be suitable, I ventured into the forest. I heard your laughter and followed the sound of it and was shocked to discover you- I saw you swimming in the pond."

She pulled the blankets up around her shoulders. "You saw me _naked_?"

He raised an eyebrow and replied, "I have not seen you don clothing during the past three days."

Her cheeks glowed scarlet and she shook her head, prompting him to add, "It was wrong of me to look upon you when you were so exposed and vulnerable."

"No, like you said, you didn't exactly _try_ to catch me naked."

"But upon finding you, I did not immediately look away. It was not an honorable thing for me to have done."

She shot him a shy look and began to laugh. "I never would have pegged you for a peeping Tom."

"Explain."

"A peeping Tom is another way of saying someone who is a voyeur."

"I am not familiar with that term either."

Amanda groaned, supposing a word like _voyeur_ probably wasn't a likely candidate for a Federation Standard primer. "It means someone who spies on people while they're undressing or doing private things."

"Finding you was accidental: I did not intend to-"

"I know. I was teasing you, which I'm sure is illogical."

"It is."

"Along with joking."

"Yes."

A tiny smile formed at the corners of her lips and she took the liberty of resting her head on his bicep. Her dark hair spread out over his forearm, tickling and arousing him. He would have been content to lie with her like that for several more days, but his empty stomach and the growing chill in the air demanded attention.

"So what now?" Amanda suddenly asked.

"We must continue the labor of surviving. We require more food to sustain us through the winter and our firewood supply is insufficient."

She gave a small nod and began to chew on her bottom lip. He considered the bizarre flood of emotions emanating from her and decided she was conflicted and either disappointed or annoyed. Perhaps both; perhaps neither.

He disliked seeing her thus, and though he knew he must distance himself from her for a time in order to fully regain his logical faculties, he acquiesced to his instinct to comfort her. Beneath the blankets, his right hand found her left and traced down the slender bones of her wrist until he located her fingers, then he gently massaged her first two forefingers with his own. She smiled, and that was enough.

"I guess we should get dressed then."

"I believe that would be wise," he agreed.

He expected her to pull the blankets back and rise to her feet but instead, she wiggled closer to him and deposited a light, slow kiss on his lips. When she finally pulled away and he was able to look into her eyes, he abandoned all intentions of returning to the world of logic, at least for very immediate future.

He prepared to flip her onto her back as he had done many times before, but she surprised him, pushing off with her leg and using his own momentum to continue rolling until Sarek found himself staring up at her instead. Straddling his stomach, she raised herself into a sitting position and gazed down at him.

He sensed she wanted to speak, but after a long pause, she slid her hands along his chest, leaned forward and began to trace her mouth along the stubble of his throat and down his collarbones. Nothing more needed to be said. Sarek wove his hands through her arms to reach her face and gripped the interface of her cheeks and jaw with more force than he'd intended, joining their minds together with renewed focus.

It would be illogical to deny he loved this woman, but love was among the most illogical things. How could he ever reconcile such a paradox? As her right hand began to trail down his stomach and he sensed what she intended, he decided in that moment that none of it mattered. All he needed, and _wanted_ , was her.

* * *

Amanda cupped the steel mug of instant coffee from the ration pack and gazed bleakly across the winter landscape. She regretted eating the ration so quickly: it would be the only one she would have until tomorrow. Sarek was still inside washing up and she'd wanted a few minutes alone to try and collect her thoughts—whatever they were.

It was late morning and the storm had abetted, leaving almost half a meter of glazed snow and broken trees in its wake. Aside from random gusts of wind, it was eerily quiet and reminded her of the first afternoon she'd arrived on the planet.

The dragonettes were all gone—whether hibernating or currently migrating somewhere warmer, she couldn't say—and the chirps of insects and rustling of leaves had gone with them. Aside from several little rows of tracks that appeared to belong to the rikki tikkis, the world seemed entirely dead. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to tuck her neck further into the scarf and shield it from the bitter cold. Funny to think how quickly the weather and scenery could change. It was funnier still to reflect on how drastically _life_ could change in a similar interval.

She closed her eyes and was met with a vision of Sarek's lean, muscular frame atop hers and resisted the urge to blush and giggle. She'd never been the girlish type, but the whole thing was too outrageous to believe. Who would have ever thought she'd end up stranded on a deserted planet with a Vulcan ambassador who, as it turned out, was a surprisingly agile and attentive lover? Whatever word existed beyond outrageous, that was exactly the word she needed to describe her present situation. She finally laughed aloud but the cold, crisp air was a shock to her lungs and resulted in a coughing fit.

"Does something amuse you?"

The sudden sound of his voice from behind her should have startled her, but somehow she'd known he was watching her. She could _feel_ him: not in any way she could describe, but she felt completely attuned to his being. She took several shallow breaths and tried to clear her throat before answering, "How does _none_ of this amuse you?"

She heard him proceed down the ramp toward the firewood shelter where Amanda was currently standing. "To what do you refer?"

There was the sound of boots crunching in snow and then he suddenly appeared by Amanda's side dressed in heavily insulated winter clothing. She took a small sip of the coffee, coffee that two months ago would have been disgusting and declared not fit for consumption but was now really quite nice, and stole a sidelong glance in his direction. "All of it. Crashing here. Meeting you. And of course everything else that's happened since then."

"I would hardly call it amusing. It simply _is_."

When she'd first met him, the cold tone of his voice might have come across as rude, but she knew better now. She knew what feelings he was capable of experiencing and knew why he worked so hard to keep them contained. She had been right in her assumption that Vulcans had a lot of emotions lurking beneath the surface and during the past three days, she'd been exposed to emotions so intense they could only be described as maddening. It was hard to believe Vulcans would have lasted as a species if they hadn't stumbled across the concept of suppressing their emotions in favor of logic.

"It is still early. How do you intend to occupy your time today?" he asked.

Amanda groaned inwardly at the thought of her aching muscles and half-starved body doing anything but sitting in a sonic bath. No one could possibly have sex for days and not come out worse for wear on the other side, but taking the day off to wallow in her aches and pains was a luxury neither of them could afford.

"I don't know how worthwhile it'll be to dig under all this snow and into frozen dirt for whatever root vegetables might still be hiding. Even if I did find anything, it's hard to say what condition they'd be in and besides, the energy it would take to dig them up would cost more than we'd get from eating them."

"I concur."

"It doesn't change the fact that we still don't have enough food to get us through the winter," she said, squinting as a sharp breeze slapped her face. She tried another sip of her coffee and was mildly dismayed to discover it had already gone cold.

"No," he agreed.

"I'm getting the feeling you weren't planning on living much longer so you weren't really worried about it, but I've been thinking about it for weeks."

They made eye contact and he offered a small nod. "It was a lesser priority before, particularly as pon farr suppresses sensations of pain, including hunger."

"So _that's_ why you weren't eating?"

"Correct."

"But now that you're on the mend, I guess that means your appetite will be too?"

"Another correct deduction."

"Even if we cut our rations in half and supplemented it with the tree bark…" she mused, not sure whether or not it was worth completing her thought.

"It would be insufficient to sustain us both for the duration of winter," he finished, breaking eye contact with her to stare at the snowdrifts piled up around the firewood shelter.

"It makes me wonder if the past three days were all for nothing," Amanda blurted. The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to stuff them right back in. What a _ridiculous_ thing to say.

"Do you believe that is the case?" Sarek asked, his tone free of any accusation or hurt.

"No," she replied, wincing and catching his eye. "And I'm sorry."

And it was the _truth_. Things with Sarek had always been complicated and after a very bizarre and emotionally disorienting sexual tryst that had lasted for days, they were whole orders of magnitude more complicated now. Whatever feelings she'd had for him before certainly hadn't disappeared—she knew that much.

"I do not intend for either of us to die," he announced.

"I would prefer we both stay alive, if at all possible," Amanda said, momentarily forgetting sarcasm wasn't something Sarek preferred to indulge in. She softened her tone and added, "Do you have some kind of idea to find or grow more food?"

His gaze started to shift and she soon realized he was following the tracks in the snow the tiny rikki tikkis had made in the night back to their point of origin, which was a small path of disturbed snow that surely led to a den entrance twenty meters away.

"You can't be serious," she murmured, nearly choking on a knot that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

His face twisted into a stoic grimace and he turned to face the direction of the pond, which was now visible through the bare tree branches.

"Sarek? Tell me you're joking."

"Have you ever known me to be in the habit of telling jokes?"

"You're seriously suggesting we kill animals and eat them?"

"The majority of our rations are patterned on animal flesh and you have never expressed any qualms with consuming them."

"But the meat in the rations isn't really meat."

"Whether or not it is meat is irrelevant. You would have no concept of what a chicken tasted like if someone had never eaten one and then thought to replicate the taste and texture of its flesh in a laboratory."

"But that was done forever ago. We haven't actually killed animals for food in more than a century. Who even knows if the chicken in the rations is what real chickens taste like?" she asked, suddenly feeling nauseated by the thought. "And speaking of the rations, you don't even like eating the fake meat so how can you possibly advocate for eating the real thing?"

"Because extraordinary circumstances occasionally require extraordinary actions. If we had no hope of rescue or escape from this planet, I would agree there would be no ethical argument to be made for trading the lives of animals for our own because we would simply be temporarily prolonging our lives at the cost of theirs. However, we have sufficient cause to believe escape _is_ possible."

Amanda shivered involuntarily and tried to keep the disgust in her voice to a minimum. "I know you said Vulcans aren't strict pacifists, but I just don't understand how you can think this is a good option."

"It is incorrect to assume I believe it to be a _good_ option: I am merely acknowledging that it is an option slightly preferable to dying of starvation."

She tried to imagine Sarek trapping one of the poor rikki tikkis. It would _have_ to be Sarek, because she was certain she couldn't bring herself to do it. _How_ would he do it? Would the trap kill it, or would he have to finish the job himself? Did it really matter how it died if he would have to strip away its skin and cut away the muscles and organs inside? She felt close to vomiting at the thought of that kind of carnage and since they were down to one ration a day and she'd scarfed hers down fifteen minutes ago, she couldn't afford to lose the breakfast, lunch, and dinner that was currently occupying her stomach. "It isn't an option though," she finally replied. "Not for me."

She had intended to glare at him with the most resolute, defiant, and challenging expression she could muster, but when she caught sight of his face, the soft admiration and approval she found was impossible to miss. She almost might have mistaken it for pride, which in turn made her bold enough to add, "As far as I can tell, surviving here has always been a roll of the dice anyway. It's all random chance that we even found each other and made it this far. We've been frozen and mauled and worse and we're still here. We have enough food to get us about halfway through winter and if another escape pod shows up, then great. If not, we did our best. Sarek, are you even listening to me?"

At some point during Amanda's impassioned monologue, his eyes had drifted away from her face to something in the distance behind her. She got a keen sense there was nothing to fear, but she could have never imagined what he would say next.

"Yes, I was listening. It is entirely possible salvation may be directly at hand." He stepped backward and followed his tracks back through the deep snow to the pod's ramp and only then did Amanda notice the bright streak of light sailing through the clear patch of sky.

She had seen this phenomenon twice before: the first time it had brought her a companion, the second time, hope. It was another escape pod. It _had_ to be.

" _Get the tricorder_!" she shrieked, chasing him up the ramp with such fervor that she stumbled twice in the knee deep snow.


	18. The Way Home

**Arg-117P: Day 43**

Amanda inhaled as deep a breath as she could manage, feeling the expansion of her ribs push against the weight of the rucksack on her back. The wind was merciless and trekking through the terrain on homemade snowshoes was an awkward, slow, and exhausting process and more than once she'd wondered if it would have been easier to just battle the knee-deep snow without them.

She paused and turned to look over her shoulder at Sarek, happy to see him staring down at the tricorder as he slogged along. She rubbed her gloved hands together and asked, "How much farther to the pod?"

"According to my calculations, we are within three kilometers of the object." He stopped when he caught up to her and added, "Are you in need of rest?"

"No, but I'm glad this one landed much closer than the other one."

This pod—Sarek annoyingly insisted on calling it an 'object' until they could confirm it actually was an escape pod—had only landed a little less than twenty-one kilometers away, which would have been an easy jaunt in better weather. The combination of the wind and snow had slowed their pace to a crawl right from the outset, but they still would be able to make it to the pod before nightfall.

"Shall we continue?" he asked, looking straight ahead.

Amanda adjusted the scarf on her face and muttered, "Might as well."

Sarek insisted she walk ahead to set the pace, which was fine with her. The fierce wind was blowing in from the north, forcing her to lean into it at times to avoid being hurled to the left. It also made casual conversation almost impossible, which was nice in a way. What was there to say after everything they'd been through and _especially_ after everything they'd been through together in the last four days?

Amanda had wanted to set off the moment they had a set of coordinates for where the pod had landed, but Sarek had insisted on using the remainder of the day to rest, meditate, and adequately prepare for their journey. Apparently he was cured of the worst of his pon farr, but needed some time to put himself back together and so, he had spent the night largely by himself, rising from his sleep every so often to kneel and meditate.

Amanda had barely slept at all. She was too keyed up with excitement at the possibility of going home, too confused about her growing feelings for Sarek, and too conflicted about the prospect of getting off the planet and never seeing him again. Her mind was overfull with thoughts, which kept her from dwelling on the physical discomfort of the journey and had the added benefit of making her lose track of time because some time later, she heard Sarek behind her calling, "Amanda, _stop_!"

She wheeled around to see what was wrong and was stunned to find she'd actually walked right by the escape pod. And it _was_ an escape pod, identical to the first one they'd discovered. She almost fell over in her excitement to get to it. It took a few minutes of teamwork to melt the ice that was freezing the hatch shut with their fire starter and once they did, the wind ripped the door back, revealing an empty pod in pristine condition.

Amanda awkwardly crawled inside, not bothering to remove her rucksack or the snowshoes. Sarek followed her and shut the door behind them, silencing the harsh wind and leaving only the sounds of their breathing. How could he be so _calm_ at a discovery like this?

"It's empty!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down with joy several times and pulling Sarek into a tight hug. She caught herself before she kissed him, but the momentary look of surprise on his face was impossible to miss. He almost seemed receptive to her spontaneous embrace, until his body stiffened and he took a step backward.

"Yes," he finally replied, turning away from her to begin methodically unburdening himself of his gear.

She wasn't sure if she should be embarrassed or hurt by his sudden standoffishness after he'd shown her such affection just several days ago, or if it was better to chalk it up to him being Vulcan and once again in a Vulcan state of mind. Rather than let an awkward silence form between them, she asked the first question that came to her mind. "Where do we find the deuterium?"

"There is a tank beneath the floor," he replied, crouching down to pull on a metal ring and free one of the floor panels.

"Why are so many of these pods arriving empty?"

"We have discovered only two empty pods," he responded, reaching down into the hold. "That hardly classifies as _many_."

"You know what I mean."

"It is likely they were ejected from the ship prematurely or as a result of some malfunction."

"Oh. Right. I guess that makes sense." Nearly a minute passed as Sarek fumbled with the pod's complicated mass of duotronic guts. Amanda could hardly stand it. " _And_?"

"The tank is nearly at capacity."

"So it's enough to get us out of here?"

"Yes."

Exuberance started to pitch her body forward to hug him again and though he did not flinch, he also didn't open his arms to receive it. She quickly caught herself and asked, "So now what?"

"In the morning, we will return to our escape pod and begin preparations to depart."

Amanda blinked several times in disbelief. It all seemed so sudden and anticlimactic. "Right. Depart."

Sarek cocked his head. "You are dissatisfied with my answer."

"No, I- it's _wonderful_ news. I'm just not sure how to process it," she muttered. "We're going home. We're _really_ going home."

"Provided we can prepare and pilot our escape pod, yes."

 _That_ was a sobering thought. It probably had occurred to her at some point that something else could still go wrong, that Sarek might find some tiny component on the pod had broken or maybe he would find out operating a warp engine wasn't as easy as he'd thought, but because their supply of deuterium had always been the obvious thing stranding them here, it had always been the thing she focused on. Get the deuterium, get off this planet. Easy as that.

He was studying her face, something he had done many times during the past several days, and all she wanted was for him to touch his hands to her cheeks and bring their minds back together, but things felt different now. Her face began to grow hot and her mind fumbled for something useful to say, but her stomach decided to speak first by growling so loudly she was surprised it didn't echo off the walls. It was a perfect segue out of the growing awkwardness. "Anyway, if we're staying the night, I guess we might as well unpack and eat some dinner."

Amanda wriggled out of her rucksack and started looking for the rations while Sarek worked at the computer. When the overhead lights came on and the environmental controls hummed to life, she shot him a nervous look. "Doesn't that eat up the deuterium?"

"It is a negligible amount. We have more than we require and according to the tricorder's estimates, the temperature will fall to approximately negative twenty degrees overnight."

Amanda replied with a small nod of her head and peered into the box of rations. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Whatever food is available will eventually be consumed, therefore, there is no logic in being choosy."

She offered him a cup of lentil soup and grabbed a chicken noodle for herself. As she pulled the tab on the instant heater, it occurred to her to ask, "How long do you think it will take to get everything ready to leave?"

"Much of it will depend upon the weather. If the weather remains as it has, I estimate we will be able to depart in approximately one month."

She pursed her lips and took a very deliberate sip of her soup, sucking up a noodle between her teeth and slowly chewing it. They would have another month together. How was she supposed to feel about that?

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, which made Amanda feel uneasy and self-conscious. She stole many quick glances in his direction, noting his expression was soft and neutral, just like she supposed any Vulcan's would be. It gave her the sense that the person she'd come to know over the past few weeks was not the same person sitting across from her now: the more emotive Sarek had been recaptured and stuffed away back inside his usual stoic form. And yet, she knew deep down that other version of Sarek was very real and still in there somewhere. Why wouldn't that Sarek talk to her?

After dinner, Sarek powered on the pod's computer and began making some calculations. She wanted to ask if she could help, but a cursory glance over his shoulder revealed more loopy symbols than numbers. She had always been pretty good at math, but it was clear Sarek was in a whole different league. It was hard not to find that kind of intelligence extremely attractive.

There wasn't much else to do in the cramped quarters other than watch Sarek work and stew on the complicated nature of their relationship. She supposed she could try to sleep but that didn't really feel like an option. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was too awake for sleeping, so she grabbed the tricorder and decided to check the weather for the next twenty-four hours. Another day of bitter cold and punishing winds didn't sound appealing.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that the tricorder predicted clear skies and warmer temperatures; not above freezing, but certainly tolerable with the right clothing. It might be even the kind of weather people got excited about doing winter sports in, not that Amanda had ever liked skiing or ice skating. She thought about telling Sarek the good news about the weather, but she imagined his response would be underwhelming at best, so she began to scroll through some of the tricorder's other programs.

She scrolled through the mapping and positioning program, trying to figure out exactly where they were, not that it really mattered: it wasn't like she expected to suddenly discover they were only a block away from a coffee shop and holotheater. She _was_ surprised however to find such detail on the tricorder's map for the area they were currently in, but then zoomed out and realized she had Sarek had come very near this location on their way back from his crashed escape pod and Hornsby's shuttle.

 _Hornsby_.

She and Sarek were lucky to be able to escape this planet, but Carl Hornsby had slogged along for _years_ until he finally couldn't take it anymore and wandered into a snowstorm. They were the only ones who knew what had happened to him and if they really were successful in getting out of here, they would have to inform Starfleet so they could inform his family.

Amanda's heart went out to a man she had never met who had technically died more than a century before her arrival here. She felt a sort of kinship with him due to the shared experience of being stranded on Arg-117P, a place that could be so pretty and tranquil one moment and then freezing and swarming with vicious land piranhas the next.

Without really knowing why, she began toggling through the track history and found the route she had traveled on her way to find Sarek. She had found Hornsby's remains a little more than four kilometers away from Sarek's pod, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly where. Then she remembered she'd scanned the remains to figure out what they were, and after some cross-referencing with some of the tricorder's other programs, she had an exact location for Carl Hornsby's final resting place.

Her bottom teeth began chewing on her upper lip. What exactly did she want this information for? She chewed harder. A tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming the answer at her, but the realistic and rational part of her kept reminding her that it was winter, the weather was unpredictable, it was far away, the terrain was hilly and rocky, and the wilderness was full of lots of things that went bump not only in the night, but also by the light of day. She stewed on it for at least twenty minutes before looking over at Sarek, who was engrossed in the pod's computer system.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?" he replied, not looking away from the screen.

"I want to do something, but I'm not sure you'll think it's a good idea. I'm not sure _I_ think it's a good idea."

"If you are convinced it is unwise, why do you mention it to me?"

"Because I don't think it's the _wise_ thing to do, but I think it's the right thing to do."

Sarek looked up from the computer. "Explain."

"I want to take Lieutenant Hornsby home with us."

"You imply you wish to collect his remains?"

"Yes. If we get out of here, we'll be able to tell his family what happened, but I'm pretty sure they would appreciate being able to have a proper funeral."

"I had thought a funeral implied a memorial service."

"Well, a memorial is part of it, but another main part of many funeral services is burying the remains. Some people prefer to be cremated so their ashes can be scattered in a place that had meaning to them. Either way, I think humans have a need to lay the remains to rest and have a place they can go to feel close to their lost loved ones."

"I know little of human funeral rites," he replied. "But Vulcan rituals are not so very different."

"What do Vulcans do?"

"If possible, their katra is preserved in one of several repositories on Vulcan. The body is usually burned in a ceremonial fire."

"Katra?"

"I do not believe there is a precise human analog. It is not dissimilar to the human concept of a soul, but it is more concrete in its concept. It can be partially transferred during mind melds and also sustained after death, either in a suitable inanimate receptacle or transferred completely to another person."

"You preserve people's- I know you know a _soul_ isn't the right word, but you can preserve some actual essence of a Vulcan's… I don't know what other word to use? _Spirit_?"

"Yes."

"So this katra of yours is like an actual, physical soul?"

Sarek gave her a pointed look.

"I know, I _know_ , I know you said it's not technically a soul and I'm terrible about repeating what you just told me like I don't believe it, but it's hard to wrap my mind around."

"Why? It is almost certain that a portion of my katra resides within you."

The heat rose in Amanda's cheeks. What was it he'd said before initiating that mind meld right before they'd had sex? Something about it lingering for a while? Was she carrying part of his _soul_?

"If you wish to collect Lieutenant Hornsby's remains, I will accompany you," he finally said.

Amanda nodded dumbly. "I checked the weather and I think it'll be ok. It'll take us two days to get there and back. I know it won't be easy, but I think it's the right thing to do."

"Yes, you said that."

"I know. And thank you, Sarek."

"You're welcome."

An hour later when Sarek decided it would be time to retire for the night, Amanda's anxiety began to rise. The last time they had slept in a pod like this, they'd ended up _cuddling_. She wouldn't have minded doing it again either, but he was acting so distant now. She spread out her bedroll right next to the wall opposite the computer console and eased herself onto her back. Sarek observed her with moving or speaking and when she was done, he unrolled his own bedroll and placed it literally as far away from hers as he could, even if there were only a couple of centimeters separating them.

When he laid down and turned out the lights, Amanda was certain she was going to go crazy from confusing feelings and self-doubt. She was about to ask him what the deal was between them now when he said, "Goodnight, Amanda."

Her confidence shattered. "Goodnight, Sarek."

* * *

**Arg-117P: Day 60**

A soft ding alerted Sarek to the completion of the second diagnostic scan. He read the result with the cool, emotionless demeanor that had eluded him for so much of his stay on Arg-117P, even though the news was very good. The computer was performing as it should.

The deuterium they'd scavenged had been consolidated in the tank below the floor and while it was only at thirty-four percent capacity, it would be sufficient to allow them to escape orbit. The escape pod's exterior had been carefully detached from the chimney and the panels he'd removed to accommodate it had been reinstalled with painstaking attention to detail.

Amanda had spent these last weeks helping him where she could and repacking most of their nonessential supplies into the proper compartments. There was no formal protocol for him to follow for preparing the escape pod for spaceflight after having retrofitted it into a shelter, but he was certain he'd done everything he believed was necessary. Amanda would be pleased.

A few moments later, she appeared at the top of the ramp, bundled in many layers of clothes and cupping a mug of some kind of steaming liquid. She gazed at him and offered a thin-lipped smile. "Everything coming out ok?"

"The escape pod is ready for departure."

Her lips made the motion of smiling, but he sensed it wasn't entirely genuine. "That's good news. So we leave tomorrow?"

"There is no reason we cannot leave now."

" _Now_?"

"You are so often in the habit of disbelieving things I say."

"No, I believe you, I just keep remembering how you said it would take at least a month."

"That was merely an estimate and one based on unpredictable weather patterns. We are ready to depart now."

"You're _sure_? Like, sure it's safe? You've checked everything and-"

"I have no experience flying an escape pod, nor was this escape pod designed to function as a shuttle and land and take-off, but I believe everything is in order."

"But it's almost dark."

"Time of day will become irrelevant once we are no longer on this planet."

Amanda blinked slowly and smiled. "I realize that, I'm just wondering if we should try and get some rest first."

"I am quite rested," he replied. And he _was_.

They had worked hard to prepare the pod in the past two weeks, but the pace of their activity could hardly be described as frenzied. They worked and slept in accordance with the weather and their own endurance. Ever since their journey to collect Lieutenant Hornsby's remains and the deuterium from the second empty escape pod seventeen days earlier, Amanda had resumed sleeping separately from him. It was an arrangement that had come about out of circumstance rather than deliberate choice.

During the first week after their return, he had stayed awake through most of the night, reading the on-board flight manuals, making calculations, and rechecking calculations while Amanda slept. Whenever he did sleep, he could see no logic in disturbing her, so he had taken to sleeping on his former bedding. As time went on, the less appropriate it became to presume he was welcome in Amanda's bed.

It still took considerable mental effort to subdue the longing he felt for her touch and companionship, but he managed. Amanda was not his mate and had never expressed any open interest in being his mate, she was simply a woman who had permitted him to mate with her under extraordinary circumstances. Yes, it would have been a shocking presumption to invite himself to any further intimacy with her, particularly when they were so close to departing from the planet and would return to their former respective lives.

"Should we eat dinner first?"

"We can partake in an end meal once we are out of orbit," Sarek replied.

"Are we really in such a hurry that we can't spare twenty minutes to sit down and eat one last meal together in this place?"

"No."

"Well, that's what I want to do."

"I will oblige your request, however, I can see no logic in it. There is no benefit in remaining on the planet longer than necessary."

"Maybe I'll miss this place."

"You are sentimental for Arg-117P?"

"Listen, I know it's illogical, but I'm going to miss it here. I know the luxury of missing it is only because we're about to leave, otherwise, I'd be cursing the fact that we're stuck here and going to die here, but yes, I have a lot of interesting memories of this place and I want to take a few moments to reflect on them before we leave." She finished the last of her drink and stared at the floor.

Sarek raised an eyebrow but made no further argument. Once again, the emotions he sensed in her were too complex to decipher. She was perhaps nostalgic, sad, and afraid? Such an odd combination. Amanda extracted a ration from the box and sat down in one of the reassembled seats and Sarek did likewise, pulling a vegetable stew for himself and sitting down opposite her.

They had been far less conservative with the rations now that escape from Arg-117P was eminent, eating two per day each rather one. It was a measured risk: the labor intensive process of packing up their camp and preparing the escape pod would have been extremely difficult without proper nutrition, but it meant certain starvation if they were unsuccessful in their attempt to break orbit. They were committed to this now.

"I sense you are frightened," Sarek mused, pulling the tab to heat his meal.

"I am a little," she admitted. "What if something goes catastrophically wrong?"

"Then we will find a correct it, or we will die."

Her eyes widened and she gave him a stern look, and sensing she was looking for some kind of reassurance, he added, "But I am confident the escape pod has been correctly prepared for departure."

The lines around her mouth slackened and she nibbled on one of the crackers from her ration. "Part of me wants to come back here someday, though I'm sure by the time spacetime is corrected in this part of space, so many millennia will have passed on this planet that it won't even be recognizable."

"It is likely, yes."

"Do you think we should have kept some kind of journal or documented the wildlife?"

"We were occupied with surviving," he replied. Sarek _had_ been keeping logs during his first days on the planet, but when his pon farr had started to overtake him, his precise recordkeeping had fallen by the wayside.

"A small part of me wants to stay a couple of days and take pictures of some of the plants and animals."

"The Argelians conducted a survey ten years ago. I am certain the native flora and fauna haven't evolved in so short a time, even accounting for the temporal well."

"That's true, I guess." It was obvious Amanda was despondent and experiencing some kind of conflict, but Sarek could not understand why. She had been equally depressed shortly after his arrival when he'd explained the gravity of their situation and the likelihood they would die on Arg-117P. What did she want? Humans were such fickle beings.

When their meals were complete, they went outside and burned the packaging over what was left of the day's fire, then they extinguished it and buried the coals under the snow. He followed Amanda up the ramp to the escape pod, but rather than cross the threshold, she turned and took one last look at the view.

"Good, bad, or ugly, this place was home," she said, not taking her eyes from the horizon.

"It is a place where we lived," he countered. "But it is not home."

She turned her head to catch his gaze. "No, not anymore."

"Are you ready to depart?" he asked, wondering why she was so eager to linger on the planet.

"I guess so."

They entered the pod, collapsed the ramp, and sealed the hatch behind them. Sarek took a seat in the jump seat next to the computer and began entering information for the launch sequence. Amanda sat down across from him and buckled herself in with her seat's five point harness.

When the pod began to liftoff from the ground, she uttered a small yelp and gripped the restraints across her chest so tightly her knuckles turned an odd shade of white, but soon they were smoothly gliding upward with considerable speed. Even though most of the escape pod's systems were on automatic controls, Sarek monitored them closely. The inertial dampeners activated as they should, which was reassuring, but he had no intention of becoming complacent, even if he had no experience piloting any kind of spacecraft.

"You did it," Amanda said softly.

She was staring out the top portals at the blackness of space, her features formed in an expression of wonder. "You did it."

"It is more correct to say we did it," he replied, quickly turning his focus back to the computer screen. "This would not have been possible without your assistance."

When they were 167 kilometers above the planet, he manually terminated the impulse engines, sending a horrendous shudder through the escape pod.

"What was that?" Amanda cried.

"Now that we have escaped orbit, I have shut off the impulse engines to conserve the deuterium. We still require it for powering the vessel's systems. Now I am preparing to engage the warp drive."

The deuterium had been the limiting variable prohibiting them from escaping the planet's orbit, but now that they were in space, they could use the remaining dilithium to travel at warp speed. Sarek had performed the calculations many times. They had insufficient supplies of dilithium to enable them to travel to any known point in the Federation, but it would be enough to take them past the outermost boundary of the artificial temporal well, and from there, they could activate the distress beacon and attempt to make contact with passing ships.

They had enough remaining deuterium to power the pod's environmental controls for 314.8 hours, or 13.12 days, assuming typical usage, which gave them just under two weeks to be rescued. This was a point Amanda had been extremely uncomfortable with, but once Sarek had explained their distress beacons were detectable on ships with long range scanners up to two light years away and that they would travel in the direction of Argelius II, putting them near a high-traffic region of the Argelian sector and thus, giving them a 98.2 percent chance of being found before losing environmental support, she had relaxed considerably.

Sarek took his time bringing the warp engine online, checking and rechecking the systems against the computer's manuals while Amanda watched from the opposite side of the shuttle. There was no mistaking her mood: she was anxious and tense.

After half an hour, Sarek informed her they were ready to engage the warp drive and suggested she take her seat. She did as he instructed without comment, and once the subtle thrum of the engine could be felt through the floor and the stars visible through the portals began to become distorted, she asked, "Is that it?"

"Yes, we are now traveling at Warp 1, according to the geometric progression scale used by Starfleet. The escape pod's engines are capable of Warp 3, but I would prefer to allow the engine to stabilize before traveling any faster."

She started to laugh, softly at first and then hysterically. Sarek pulled his eyes away from the computer screen to see that her laughter was quickly devolving into tears.

"Why do you cry?"

She tried wiping her eyes and speaking, but only choppy syllables emerged from between her sobs. Sarek stole one last glance at the monitor and ensuring everything was in order, he rose to his feet, unsure if he should attempt to comfort her.

"Amanda?"

"We-we're g-g-g-going h-home."

"Yes. I had thought you would be happy."

"I-I _am_."

"Then why do you cry?"

She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "M-maybe b-because I'm h-human."

He nodded but wasn't entirely sure if he believed her. She seemed… relieved and incredulous and sad and also delighted all at the same time, which according to his understanding of emotion, ought to have been impossible.

She quickly managed to calm herself and during the following hour, she dozed while he kept close watch on the escape pod's systems. Everything was as it should be, and eventually he felt confident he could leave the terminal unattended while he used the latrine. When he emerged, he found Amanda wide awake and staring at the clock on the wall.

"The time is going all crazy again."

"I anticipated this. We are rapidly approaching the outer boundary of the temporal well. I estimate we will be clear of it within eleven hours, though that is a variable estimate based on my crude model of the region of temporal distortion."

"How much time will have passed for the people on the other side by the time we get back to our time?"

"If my model was correct-"

"I know there's a lot of uncertainty and you did the best you could with the little data you had," Amanda interrupted. "But best guess? Minutes? Hours? Days?"

"Even according to the most liberal estimate, when we reach the outer edge of the temporal well, no more than two minutes will have elapsed."

She chuckled and leaned her head against the headrest. "We went through hell and back for months and as far as anyone who knows us is concerned, we might as well have just gone to the kitchen for a sandwich. I wonder what my mom will say?"

"I do not know your mother, so I cannot predict her response."

Amanda grinned at him, but there was obvious sadness in her eyes. "What will you do, once we're rescued?"

"Travel to Argelius II to mediate the dispute between the Argelians and the Federation."

"Oh right, I forgot you'd told me someone wanted to turn that planet into a resort."

"Yes, though at the time, I believe you referred to it as a _murder rock_."

She laughed. He enjoyed her laughter more than he cared to admit. "I vaguely remember. That seems like ages ago."

"What will you do?" Sarek asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What will you do when you return home?"

She shrugged. "First I have to get home. I was on a cruise, but I don't even know if the ship made it through the temporal waves. But I guess after I figure out how to catch a ride back to Earth, I'll get started on preparing for the spring semester."

"I recall you once indicated you would first seek out a serving of chocolate cake."

She laughed again, harder this time and with more obvious joy, which pleased him once again.

"When did I say that?"

"When we sought refuge in the first empty escape pod. We were discussing food and-"

Amanda held up her hand and interrupted, "Do you remember _everything_?"

"My memory is fallible, certainly."

Amanda's lips thinned and she gave a small bob of her head. "It was a hard couple of months on that planet, but I'm glad I had you."

"I am grateful for your company as well."

"Do you think we'll still talk to each other after we get home?"

Sarek hesitated. Amanda was on the verge of broaching a subject he had briefly considered many times but had never allowed himself to fully explore. "Would you like to correspond?"

"Would you?"

"First we must be rescued," he finally said.

Amanda's face fell, but she nodded and stood up. "Is there anything I can do to help you, you know, with the computer or anything?"

"I believe I have the situation in hand."

"Then I'm going to make up a bed and get some sleep. Wake me up if you want me to watch the computer or something."

It took her several hours to finally drift into a state of sleep. He knew the rhythm of her breathing while she slept by heart. His eyes drifted back and forth between Amanda and the monitor, and for the first time since discovering the second escape pod, he finally permitted himself to think about returning to civilization.

His professional life was not in question: he would resume his duties as ambassador to Earth following talks with the Argelians. His personal life, however, was far more complicated. Had he been marooned on Arg-117P for the rest of his life, he would have gladly accepted Amanda as his mate. He would accept her even _now_ , if only she were willing and there was any logic in such a match.

Logically he recognized they were poorly suited to each other. She was expressive and so often in the human habit of being sarcastic and carefree, which stood in stark contrast to his staid and rational manner. It troubled him that he so often found her smiles and attention so pleasing but he was certain he would never truly grow weary of it.

Even if she _did_ care for him as he cared for her and were to agree to be his mate, he was all but certain she would be dissatisfied with the rigors of Vulcan decorum. He doubted she would ever find any happiness on Vulcan, and her inherent joy was one of her most endearing qualities. He could become a permanent expatriate, but there was no logic in abandoning his home world, his family, and his career progression simply to please his mate. Or was there?

There was also the matter of the age disparity between them. Amanda was only twenty-six years old, which was quite young for a Vulcan but quite adult for a human. Sarek was sixty-four, which for a Vulcan, put him in approximately the same relative life stage as Amanda. They were both entering the prime of their lives, only he was thirty-eight years her senior. Even if she were to live to the extreme limits of the human lifespan, she would die well before him.

And what of any children they might have? He suppressed the strange emotion produced at the mere thought of creating a family with Amanda to think of the fate of their hypothetical child. There had been instances of mating between Vulcans and other species and though these hybrid children were tolerated and treated with respect by his people, they were never really accepted.

It was then that he fully accepted two things: he loved Amanda, but he could not be her mate. This filled him with such immediate despair that his heart began to beat faster and he found it difficult to breathe, but he quickly corrected his shameful emotional lapse and resolved that he would simply have to find a way to live life without her, for both of their sakes.

"Sarek?"

The unexpected sound of her voice startled him. "Yes?"

She sat up and looked around. "I don't know. I was sleeping fine and then I had a- I don't want to call it a _dream_. I was just sleeping and suddenly felt-" Her eyes met his and she shot him a weak smile. "I know feelings are illogical and you probably don't want to hear about it."

"Are you well?"

She blinked and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Is everything ok with the pod and the warp drive and such?"

"Everything is as it should be," he replied, which was not a lie because it was true of the escape pod and it's systems, even if it were not true for Sarek.

"Would you like to get some sleep?"

"I would prefer to stay awake for now. Please, rest."

She nodded and lowered herself back down onto her makeshift bed. "Goodnight, Sarek."

"Goodnight, Amanda."

If he had known that would be the last time he would utter those words to her, he might have said more.

* * *

**Stardate 2229.03  
2106 hours**

Amanda wasn't sure whether it was the sound of static crackling through the speakers or the voice that woke her, but the first sounds she fully processed when she woke up was the voice of a woman.

" _Escape pod 1, verify your coordinates_."

"We are currently bearing 014-mark-91, Argelian sector."

"Sarek, what's going on?" she blurted, rubbing her eyes and trying to ignore the sudden cantering pace of her heart.

The woman's voice coming through the communications system answered for him. "Acknowledged. The USS _Mercury_ is en route to your position. Our estimated arrival time will be 0432 hours, stardate 2229.04."

Amanda's eyes shot to the clock above the latrine. Her jaw fell open. She was too excited to do any accurate math in her head, but as far as she could tell, they were less than eight hours away from rescue. Sarek had done it. They were really going home.


	19. The Merits of Chocolate Cake

**Stardate 2229.04  
0502 hours**

**Argelian Sector, USS** **_Mercury_ **

"And what was your weight before?" the nurse asked, flashing Amanda a bright smile as she glanced up from her PADD. "Relative to Earth's gravity, of course."

Amanda blinked, unsure if she knew was supposed to know what her weight was relative to any other planet. "Um, a little more than fifty-five kilos? I don't know. It's been a while since I weighed myself."

"Right now you're looking at a very trim 48.2 kilograms."

Amanda grimaced, suddenly thinking she felt skinnier than she had before the nurse had announced her weight. "Call it the Arg-117P diet."

"What an ordeal that must have been," she quipped. "Alright Miss Grayson, can you step off the scale and sit up on the bed for me?"

Amanda wasn't actively listening but some unconscious part of her brain managed to make her comply with the nurse's request. She was certain the nurse with the glossy black hair had a name and had even told her what it was, but she hadn't really been paying attention when the introductions were flying. She'd been too busy twisting around to see where they were taking Sarek, which apparently was into an adjacent medical suite for an exam of his own.

"And how long did you say you were on the planet?" the nurse asked, raising a tricorder to Amanda's chest.

Amanda blinked, trying to absorb the question. "Uh, we- _I_ was stuck in the escape pod by myself for a couple of weeks, then I spent sixty… I don't know, sixtyish days on the planet?"

"I see. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

"Uh… hungry? Tired?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Once we're done here, I'll have one of the orderlies get you some food. Anything in particular you'd like?"

Amanda thought of Sarek's remark about the chocolate cake and smiled inwardly, then felt incredibly sad at the thought of Sarek. "Uh, I'm not really picky. How long is this going to take?"

"Not long, I don't think," the nurse replied. "Should be a quick exam. Now, aside from the malnutrition, how would you describe your health?"

It wasn't easy to keep the look of irritated exasperation off her face. "Uh, well, I broke my leg a couple of weeks ago. Sarek- um, the ambassador managed to patch it back together, but it still aches."

"Ouch," the nurse responded. "How'd that happen?"

"I fell down a hill and landed on a log."

"Was it a very bad break? Was the bone sticking out or-"

"It broke the bone clean through. Sarek- I mean Ambassador Sarek did what he could with the bone knitter."

"Bone knitters aren't really designed to treat compound breaks. We'll get the doctor to look at it."

She started to leave but Amanda asked, "Do you know what happened to the _Juniper Carnegie_? Did anyone get out besides me? Can I contact my mom? How can I get home?"

The woman was clearly unprepared for the barrage of questions. "The _Juniper Carnegie_ was the cruise ship you were on?"

"Yeah."

"I honestly don't know. I haven't heard any reports, but no news is usually good news. As for your other concerns, I can find out for you. I promise you, we will get you home, I just don't know how yet."

The quick exam Amanda had been promised turned into a six hour interrogation about all the wildlife she'd come into contact with, several blood tests, and a quick, non-invasive surgery to smooth out the bone in her right leg. While she was a bit annoyed it took so long when she just wanted to shower and lie down, she couldn't deny her leg felt supremely better. She asked several more people about calling her mother and getting home and finding Sarek, but most of them politely brushed her off and she eventually gave up, deciding that the people who worked in the medical ward probably weren't the right people to be asking.

When she was released, a fresh-faced operations lieutenant escorted her to her accommodations. They said nothing to each other, not out of any awkwardness, but because he spent most of their short journey chatting away on his communicator, relaying orders about cargo inventories and Gamma shift's communications logs. Amanda did her best to commit the location to memory, but the ship was huge and every deck looked identical to the last and her mind had become prone to wandering.

When they stopped outside of a private room at the end of a corridor on Deck 12, he snapped his communicator closed and proudly gestured to a black screen mounted to the left of the door. "We've added your biometrics to the system, so you should be able to raise your hand to that pad to open your room."

Amanda did as he suggested and the door slid into the wall, revealing a room that prior to her stay on Arg-117P would have been described as adequate, but now felt practically palatial. There was a sonic shower and her own replicator. There was a proper _bed_.

"Thank you," Amanda murmured, pausing in the threshold.

"The captain has authorized you to use the replicator to make whatever you need. New clothes, toiletries, makeup…"

She knew he was trying to be nice, but something about the insinuation that she might want makeup rubbed her the wrong way. Was she ugly without makeup? Did he not realize she'd just spent months in a hellhole where mascara and perfectly tweezed eyebrows were the least of her worries?

"Right, thanks again."

"Is there anything else you need, ma'am?"

She was about to insist she was fine, but while she was physically better than she'd been in a long time, she didn't feel entirely _whole_. Maybe he would have better answers to her questions than the medical staff had. "Can I ask, do you know where the ambassador is?"

The scrunching of his features made it evident he couldn't understand why she would want to know. "The Vulcan ambassador to Earth?"

"Yes." Her cheeks went aflame and she added, "We were rescued together. I just wanted to know how he's doing."

The lieutenant's expression relaxed. "Ah yes, I remember now. That must have been a very interesting experience. The ambassador is being accommodated in the first officer's quarters. Would you like me to pass along a message through his aide?"

"A message? No, I was- I was hoping to see him."

"The captain has informed me that the ambassador is not to be disturbed."

Was the lieutenant really suggesting that wanting to visit Sarek would be a _bother_? A cold feeling of disbelief wound its way through her body as she slowly realized that to everyone on this ship, Sarek wasn't Sarek, he was _Ambassador_ Sarek, a man so important the ship's second-in-command had been forced to vacate his or her own quarters to accommodate him. She wanted to protest but it was clear this young lieutenant was only doing as he was told and arguing with him would accomplish nothing, so she nodded and entered the room.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Um, I don't know," she replied, not looking back at him.

"As I said before, you have a replicator in your room, but the mess is located on Deck 6 if you would like to have some company for lunch. I'm sure after being stranded alone for so long-"

"I wasn't alone," she corrected, finally turning to look him in the eye and fighting back angry tears. "I was on the planet with Ambassador Sarek."

It was the lieutenant's turn to go red in the face. "Right. Anyway, if there's anything else you need, feel free to ask anyone on the crew."

"Could you tell me what's going to happen now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where are we going? Can I get my things back from the escape pod? When can I go home? How can I contact my family? Is anyone left from the _Juniper Carnegie_?"

His very expressive face began to contort into confusion and discomfort as the questions fell from her mouth and hit his ears. Maybe he'd assumed either someone else had already spoken with her about such matters or maybe she would just be so grateful to not be dead that she wouldn't care what happened to her next, but either way, he clearly wasn't prepared with any answers and had to take several seconds to consider her many questions before speaking.

"Well, right now we're going to be in this sector assisting with rescue efforts-

"Rescue efforts?" she wondered aloud, curious who else was out there.

"Yes, most of the escape pods from the _Bell_ are spread across this sector. We've rescued thirty-three of the _Bell_ 's crewmembers and two other ships have responded to the distress signal. Our current mission is to continue to assist with the recovery of the _Bell_ 's crew until more Federation vessels arrive, but our priority is to ensure Ambassador Sarek arrives on Argelius II."

"Have you rescued anyone from the _Juniper Carnegie_?"

"Was that a cruise ship?"

"Yes."

"I swear I heard something about it in last's night's traffic," he said, looking as though he was seriously contemplating the name. Before he could answer, his communicator chirped again.

"I know you're very busy," she began.

He held up a finger to silence her, flipped the communicator open, and in a flustered voice breathed, "Lieutenant Jackson here, captain."

A female voice fluttered through the device's tiny speakers. " _Have you spoken with Lieutenant Hardy about the change in security shifts_?"

He stood up straighter, as if his captain would somehow notice him standing at attention through a communicator, and replied, "No ma'am. I was en route to speak with her directly."

" _There's no rush, lieutenant. Get some lunch first_. "

"Aye, captain."

" _Captain Schmidt, out_."

The cloud nine look on Lieutenant Jackson's face gave Amanda the distinct impression she was dealing with a brown-noser of the highest degree and she had no patience for it.

"So Miss Mason, is there anything else you need?" he asked, glancing up at her as he returned his communicator to his belt.

There was no point in correcting him about her name, nor was there any point in asking him about what lay in store for her. Unless she could find a way to outrank him, he wasn't going to take any interest in her problems.

"No, Lieutenant Johnson," she replied, shutting the door in his face.

The last thing she heard out of him before it sealed shut was, "It's Lieutenant _Jackson_ -"

She spent a few seconds taking in the clean and orderly room, torn between taking a shower, eating a hot replicated meal, and flopping down face first on the bed and sleeping until she couldn't sleep any longer. After about thirty seconds of staring listlessly at the bare nightstand next to the bed, she peeled off the hospital issue blue shirt and left a trail of clothes leading up to the sonic shower.

The pulses felt magical against her skin, rubbing and massaging away weeks of sweat and dirt and worry. Unfortunately, they were powerless to wash away the intense loneliness she felt when her thoughts began to turn to Sarek.

They had been transported together directly to the medical bay but had been immediately separated into two separate rooms. That hadn't _seemed_ like a big deal—any reasonable nurse would have given them separate exam rooms—but she had no idea that was the last time they would be allowed to be Sarek and Amanda instead of Ambassador Sarek and Amanda _Mason_ , whoever _she_ was.

Why hadn't she seen this coming? She'd been too worried about Sarek wanting to continue any kind of relationship with her to consider that other people would try and keep them apart. Outside of Arg-117P, he was an important man with important duties and she was just a sixth grade science teacher. Why _should_ he be expected to give her an audience? Maybe if she could just go to his quarters and talk to him…

She shook her head, refusing to finish her thought. The image of her hand stroking the buzzer to his door and a Vulcan stranger appearing and telling her that "the ambassador is very busy" snapped into focus in her mind's eye. Or perhaps she would get in the turbolift and a member of the crew would tell her the deck with the first officer's quarters was off-limits to her. Painful as they were, the thoughts about other people interfering were a lot easier to manage than the thought that she would actually see Sarek for herself and have him ask her what she wanted or say something like, "Our continued acquaintance is no longer necessary and therefore, illogical."

She leaned her forehead against the cool wall of the shower and wept bitterly, feeling abandoned and betrayed but keenly aware that Sarek had never promised her any kind of happily ever after. Soon she sank to the floor, curled her knees against her chest, and cried until she could barely breathe. Weeks of semi-starvation made her body feel knobby and foreign, and the longer she sobbed, the more wretched she felt. Physically she felt like a husk and now it felt like her heart was being ripped out for good measure.

No amount of misery would allow her to cry on the shower floor forever, so an hour later she numbly rose on a pair of trembling legs and walked naked to the replicator. The ship's clothing patterns were a little sparse: at least eighty percent of everything programmed into the replicator was various Starfleet uniforms, from engineering crewman's coveralls to an admiral's dress uniform.

The civilian clothing options were a laughable mixed bag. She supposed members of the crew only programmed in civilian clothes as they needed them but based on what she was finding, the USS _Mercury_ must have been home to some wild costume parties. There was a garish men's Hawaiian style shirt with kittens instead of flowers, a dramatic Avant-garde bubblegum pink evening gown, some kind of flight suit that looked like it might have been worn by an early twentieth century pilot, and a gold metal bikini.

She eventually settled on a set of sensible underclothes, a pair of soft black slacks, and a black t-shirt that apparently doubled as a men's undershirt for Starfleet uniforms. The clothes were barely on her body when the door buzzed, making her jump and almost fall over.

She scrambled to the door, hopeful that Sarek had come to find her, but was disappointed to discover a tall, slender Chinese man in a yellow tunic waiting for her with his hands tucked behind his back.

"Miss Grayson?"

"Yes?"

"It is nice to meet you. I'm Commander Zhao, first officer of the USS _Mercury_. I tried contacting your room but I didn't get an answer."

"Oh, I just got out of the shower a little while ago."

"Ah yes, I'm sure it must have been a welcome experience after your ordeal."

She nodded civilly, still unsure of what he wanted but relieved to have encountered the first person on the ship who genuinely seemed to be taking an active interest in her existence.

"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you," he continued. "But when you didn't respond to my communications, I became worried. Now that I see you are quite alright, would you care to join me in the mess? It's nearing the end of the lunch hour and I thought you might enjoy a hot meal and some company. I'm sure you also probably have a ton of questions and I'll do my best to answer them."

It was hard to resist his friendly and polite demeanor. It was also difficult to believe it was lunchtime, but Amanda's perception of time was obviously a bit off. According to the calendar and pretty much everyone on this ship, it was two months ago.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a reply, so Amanda finally said, "That would be nice."

She followed him down the corridor where they rode in a turbolift down to Deck 6. They got a few curious glances from the crewmembers they passed, but when they arrived in the cafeteria, or the _mess_ , as the Starfleet people liked to call it, the only thing she noticed was the heaps of food piled onto plates in front of cheerful Starfleet personnel.

"What'll you have?" Commander Zhao asked cheerfully, directing her toward a bank of food replicators.

A dozen options flew through her mind and none of them involved boiled root vegetables or the powdered orange-flavored electrolyte drink that had come with the rations. Lasagna? Pot roast? Pecan pie? Baked salmon in capers? She thought of Sarek and her wish for chocolate cake and almost wanted to cry.

"What are you having?" she asked.

"I thought I'd help myself to some nice, greasy pizza. Pepperoni, mushroom, and black olives."

Pools of saliva formed in her mouth at the mere thought of such extravagance. "I think I'll have that too."

When they sat down, Amanda had to consciously think about not stuffing a whole triangle of pizza into her mouth in one go. She took small bites and chewed slowly and carefully, but Commander Zhao took a bite and skillfully flipped a long string of cheese into his mouth and said, "What's the point in having pizza if you're going to be dainty with it?"

They each finished their first slice without speaking and Amanda was halfway into her second when she asked, "Do you know what's going to happen to me?"

"Well, we're about to started heading toward Argelius II and should be there in a little more than twenty-four hours. I understand you were on a civilian cruiseliner that was headed for the same destination."

"The _Juniper Carnegie_ , yes. Do you know what happened to it?"

"We've been in communication with your ship and informed them you're on board. You'll be able to meet back up with them once we're in orbit and continue your cruise as scheduled."

"Wait, so it- it's _fine_? It wasn't destroyed?"

"I believe they lost a member of their crew in an accident while disengaging an escape pod, but they didn't report any significant damage."

She felt sick to her stomach. The image of the crewman floating out in space as her escape pod drifted away from the ship appeared in her mind's eye. "It's my fault he's dead."

She expected him to argue and try to console her, but instead he asked, "What makes you think that?"

Amanda told him the story about being afraid of the waves striking the ship and badgering the crewman to let her into an escape pod, and when she was finished, Commander Zhao put his piece of pizza down and replied, "I obviously don't know what happened, whether it was a mechanical or technical malfunction or whether the crewman failed to follow protocols, but I find it difficult to believe you're responsible. You didn't throw the man out an airlock."

"But if I hadn't been in such a hurry- if I hadn't been so freaked out-"

He held up his hand. "His death is very sad, but he died ensuring you were safe in an escape pod. Whether it was only you or whether the pod was full, he still might have died if the pod was malfunctioning or if he didn't follow proper safety protocols. I'm sure the _Juniper Carnegie_ will be reviewing its procedures and performing preventive maintenance and checks on all its escape pods in the near future."

Amanda nodded and took several more bites of her pizza before asking, "Do you know what happened to Hornsby?"

Commander Zhao seemed to think to himself for a moment before his expression turned serious. "He was the shuttle pilot testing the Peregrine X7?

"Something like that," she replied. "He died- well, we brought his body back with us and- does his family know?"

"We've notified Starfleet headquarters. Depending on what the family wants, we'll either take his remains home for burial or give him a burial in space. I'm sure by now they've dispatched a mortuary affairs team to the family residence."

"Mortuary affairs?"

"Yes, it's an old tradition to inform the families in person whenever possible. Usually it's a specially trained officer or a psychologist that breaks the news. I don't envy that job."

"When I was on the planet, I spent a lot of time wondering what my family would say once they found out I was dead. I tried imagining how they would be told, who would tell them, and how they would react. I'm sure that sounds really morbid."

"I've had a few close calls since I joined Starfleet," Zhao countered. "I think it's natural to worry about your family when your life is in danger."

"My life wasn't really in danger in the ordinary sense, I don't think. I spent two months away and as far as anyone else knows, it hasn't even been a full day."

"We've been rescuing people from the _Bell_ all morning. Most of their pods were ejected away from the planet so they didn't get quite as severe time dilation as you—most of them only experienced a couple of extra days—but even they're having some difficulty adjusting."

"I feel like I should call my mom and tell her I'm ok because I feel like she must have been worried sick, but she never even knew anything was wrong. If I start rambling on about almost freezing and starving to death on some remote planet no one's ever heard of, she'd probably think I'd lost my mind. Maybe I _have_."

"Getting stuck in a temporal well certainly isn't something that happens to most people," he agreed, helping himself to another slice of pizza. "And while it must make for a very complicated experience for you, it doesn't make you crazy."

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to finish my cruise and go home and go back to work when winter break is over? Am I just supposed to pretend like nothing happened? When people start telling me about how they went skiing or baked pies with their kids or cleaned out their attics, am I supposed to say I spent two months fighting for my life on a planet with a man I-" Amanda's mouth snapped closed. She was rambling and probably on the verge of revealing a lot of intimate details to a man clearly unprepared to hear about them.

Commander Zhao cocked an eyebrow and studied her face. Eventually he said, "I'm not a trained psychologist, but our ship is fortunate to have one assigned. Maybe you would like to talk to him?"

She shook her head instinctively. She didn't want a shrink, she wanted _Sarek_. They parted ways a short time later when Commander Zhao was recalled to the bridge for a briefing, and once inside the turbolift, Amanda started to slide the lever to take her back to her quarters on Deck 12, but hesitated when she saw the ship's directory.

Sarek was staying in the first officer's billets and the first officer was Commander Zhao. Either by luck or subconscious inquiry, her eyes came to rest on the words, _Jing Zhao, Commander, 14B_. She supposed under the current circumstances it would be awfully presumptuous to just drop by Sarek's room and ask to talk to him, but less than twenty-four hours ago, they'd been sharing the floor of a cramped escape pod and less than three weeks ago, they'd shared a _bed_. What did she have to lose?

She slid the lever to Deck 14 and stepped into a hallway much like the others she had seen, only there were fewer doors. Directly across the turbolift door was a door with a placard next to it that read _Sheila Schmidt, Captain, 14A_. Apparently this was where the top brass lived.

Why was her heart threatening to thunder out of her chest? Why did her legs shake as she approached the door to the right labeled _Jing Zhao, Commander, 14B_? It wasn't like she was breaking any rules. _Was_ she? She wavered outside the door for a full minute, her stomach twisting over in knots. Her mind pleaded with her to forget it and go back to her room, but her heart demanded she push the buzzer and alert him to her presence. When she finally worked up the courage to do it, a nervous laugh escaped her lips.

An eternity passed in the approximately ten seconds it took for the door to open and when it did, she found herself in the company of a tall Vulcan man who would be scowling if he weren't so Vulcan.

"I gave express orders that the ambassador was not to be disturbed."

"Oh," she breathed, suddenly feeling hot and dizzy. "I- I uh- I just wanted to talk to him."

The man's dark eyes bored right through her soul and were probably scorching the carpet behind her. "He is meditating."

"Would it be possible to see him later then?"

"Ambassador Sarek is not in the habit of accepting unscheduled audiences, particularly with those he is unacquainted with."

"I just spent the last two months with him. He knows me."

"As I have already stated, he is meditating and is not to be disturbed."

"Will you at least tell him I came by?" she asked, angry that her voice was cracking.

The man gave the faintest nod of his head before closing the door. He was never going to mention this to Sarek—he hadn't even asked for her name. What could she do now? As far as she could tell, she had exactly two choices: walk away and forget about Sarek or push the buzzer again and probably cause a scene.

It had been such a long time since Amanda had experienced true heartbreak but as she drifted back into the turbolift, she finally allowed herself to feel it. It was so much worse than the loss of any high school or college boyfriend. It was like someone was murdering a piece of her soul and she was allowing it to happen.

She cried herself to sleep on the stiff bed in her room, never bothering to take off her clothes. Several times she woke up in a panic, unsure of where she was and instinctively looking to the right to see if Sarek was sleeping on the stack of seat cushions next to her. When she discovered he wasn't, she would start crying all over again. She slept for ages, drifting in and out of sleep like the tide on an isolated beach.

Eventually she was forced into consciousness by an alarm, or rather, what she thought was an alarm until a man's voice punctuated the buzzing sound. " _Miss Grayson_?"

"Yes?" she mumbled, sitting up and wondering who the hell was in her room.

" _Miss Grayson, it's Commander Zhao. You have to press the button on the communicator by the door to speak with me_."

The lights came on automatically as she stumbled from the bed and the sudden shift in brightness disoriented her for half a second, causing her to stub her pinky toe on the chair by the wall. She swore out loud and slammed her fist on the button of the communicator. "Commander Zhao? Hello?"

" _Miss Grayson, it's 1100 hours and a transport shuttle is scheduled to take you down to Argelius II at 1300. I just wanted to make sure you had enough time to pack your belongings_."

"I don't _have_ any belongings," she grumbled. "No one ever gave me my bags from the escape pod, remember?"

" _I'm so sorry. I'll see if I can locate them for you. Can you be in the mess in an hour and a half? I'll have Lieutenant Jackson meet you there and escort you to your shuttle_."

"Is that the guy that calls me Miss Mason?"

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. " _Lieutenant Jackson stays quite busy. I'll make sure he gets your name right. Can you be there in an hour and a half_?"

"Do I have a choice?" she replied, half teasing, half exasperated.

" _Of course you do_ ," he responded cheerfully. " _You're more than welcome to stay on with us. Starfleet is always looking for new recruits_."

"Nice try," she laughed. It felt weird to laugh. "I'll be in the mess at 1230."

" _It was nice to meet you, Miss Grayson. Sorry it wasn't under better circumstances_."

"You too," she replied, disengaging the communication system.

She wandered into the bathroom and recoiled at the sight of her face. Her cheekbones were sunken and the dark circles under her eyes were slightly masked by the puffiness caused by a night of crying. Another long sonic shower did little to improve her spirits but it did make her feel physically better and after combing her hair and brushing her teeth, she could swear she was almost recognizable.

The mess was full of people on their lunch break so she took a seat at one of the few open tables near the entrance and next to a massive portal. The ship was at warp and the stars were little more than streaks of light flying past. She was hungry but so unaccustomed to eating that it didn't immediately occur to her that she could eat. Funny how easy it was to get used to the gnawing pain that came from an empty stomach.

Just as she was debating getting in line for the replicators, a small piece of chocolate cake appeared before her. She held her breath, both shocked and delighted to find Sarek standing to her right.

"Hello, Amanda. I had thought you might want this."

"You remembered," she laughed, staring at the decadent dessert.

"It would be difficult to forget, given your propensity for discussing the merits of chocolate cake."

He seemed so much taller, _regal_ even. He wore a set of resplendent black and violet robes with an amulet on a long chain around his neck. As different as he looked, she would know him anywhere. "You look _good_."

"You look well also," he replied.

"Would you like to sit down?" she asked, gesturing toward the empty seat across from her.

"If you like," he replied, glancing behind her.

"I tried to see you yesterday but your assistant wouldn't let me," she said, wondering if she was coming across as whiny.

"I have much to do to prepare for my negotiations with the Argelians," he explained, moving toward the empty chair.

"I know you must stay very busy," she mumbled, wishing he would say something even remotely affectionate or better yet, something along the lines of " _Please forgive my idiot assistant. Why don't you come stay in my quarters with me_?"

The awkward silence began to grow between them and she could swear she saw longing in his eyes. Maybe it was just her own wishful thinking.

"I do hope you enjoy your cake," he finally said, looking away.

There would never be a better opportunity to tell him how she felt. Why did her tongue not seem to be working? Just as she started to say, "Listen, Sarek -" a man's voice interrupted her before she could finish saying " _Why don't we keep in touch_?"

"Miss Grayson?"

She whipped around to find Lieutenant Jackson racing toward them and jumped to her feet. "I thought we weren't meeting until 1230," she stammered.

"Excuse my interruption, ambassador," the lieutenant said, ignoring Amanda and offering Sarek the Vulcan salute. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance. Live long and prosper."

Sarek rose from his seat and lifted his right hand to return Lieutenant Jackson's gesture. "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing at all," he replied, giving Amanda a stern look. "I know your aide indicated you didn't want to be bothered-"

"I came to this dining facility on my own accord," Sarek replied.

Amanda gritted her teeth so hard she wondered if her molars would shatter. Had Lieutenant Jackson really come rushing over because he thought she was harassing the ambassador?

"Yes, I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but Miss Grayson's shuttle is ready to depart."

Why was he talking about her like she was a child? "Commander Zhao said it wasn't leaving until 1300 and that I was to meet you here at 1230. It can't possibly be-"

"The schedule was moved up," the lieutenant hastily explained. "They're ready to take you as soon as we drop out of warp. We should go."

"Right _now_?"

Lieutenant Jackson's eyes bulged, giving her the impression he wasn't used to people questioning his instructions. "Yes, _now_."

She glanced wistfully at the chocolate cake on the table and then at Sarek. There was the briefest flash of an expression that could only be described as sadness, but it disappeared behind his smooth Vulcan façade. "I am honored to know you, Amanda Grayson."

There was so much to say but all of it was so personal and none of it deserved to be said in front of an impatient Starfleet officer and a dining room full of people so in the end, she chose to nod and say, "You too."

And just like that, it was over between them.

* * *

Sarek sat with his hands folded neatly on the table, staring at the untouched piece of cake. The lieutenant hadn't even given her time to consume a single bite. Amanda's swell of grief, shock, and affection lingered in the room, even though she'd departed approximately twenty minutes ago. He wondered how long the bond between them would persist. She had been so agitated and anguished the night before.

Sevek finally looked up from his PADD and announced, "the Argelians are requesting we move the schedule of events ahead by a day."

"We can accommodate them," Sarek replied.

"Ambassador, it is logical to adhere to the current timeline, particularly considering the ordeal you endured."

Sarek watched a tiny shuttlecraft emerge from the starboard bay. Was Amanda on that shuttle? An inexplicable tightening ripped through his chest and he struggled to subdue his anguish.

"Ambassador?"

He turned to acknowledge Sevek. "Yes?"

"Perhaps you would like to return to our quarters and continue reviewing the dossier I prepared this morning."

"I came here to eat. I am quite hungry." It was not entirely a lie. He was hungry, but he had also come in the hopes that he might see Amanda. It was illogical to harbor an ulterior motive and even more illogical to feel compelled to slip away from his quarters while his aide had been in the shower.

"We have a replicator in our room capable of making the same dishes as these," Sevek said, glancing toward the bank of replicators behind them. "The room also has the added benefit of privacy and quiet."

"So we do and so it does." He followed Sevek toward the exit of the mess, moving out of the way to allow a woman in a blue medical smock to pass. Sevek was speaking again, but his ears were trained on the woman once he heard her say, "Do you know if Amanda Grayson still on board?" to a man wearing a similar blue medical smock sitting at a table reading a PADD.

"The civilian we picked up yesterday? I think she just left," the man replied. "Why?"

"Nurse O'Halloran was looking over her bloodwork and noticed something rather strange."

He never did find out what was so unusual about Amanda's blood because he and Sevek entered into the corridor and were no longer in earshot of the conversation. There was no logic in worrying over the state of her health when he had so little information and would likely never see her again, but he found himself concerned she'd contracted some illness or parasite on Arg-117P. Another likely explanation might be that she was simply malnourished or anemic. Even though Amanda's health was none of his business, he worried, even if his duties did not afford him sufficient time to worry.

"Starfleet has also asked if we will submit a formal statement of our account of what happened to the USS _Bell_ and your experience on Arg-117P, but I informed them it will have to wait until after the negotiations with the Argelians."

"When is our shuttle scheduled to disembark?" Sarek asked.

"At 1500 hours. Our quarters on Argelius II are in order and I have already made arrangements with the Argelians to view the negotiation room prior to the formal arbitration proceedings."

Sarek glanced at Sevek. It was fortunate that he'd survived the incident on the _Bell_ and more fortunate still that he'd been rescued by the same ship that had rescued Sarek. Given that he had served as aide to the previous Vulcan ambassador to Earth as well, he was technically more experienced than Sarek at interplanetary diplomacy, at least in terms of logistics.

Once they had returned to their quarters, Sevek said, "Also, I received a communique from Ambassador Skon this morning. He asks if you would be able and willing to return to Earth by way of Vulcan."

"Do you have business on Vulcan?" Sarek asked.

Sevek straightened his posture, thought to himself for a moment, and replied, "No official business, no."

Sarek knew his aide well enough to know that he had a wife and two daughters on Vulcan that he had not seen in nearly four years. "Does my schedule permit such a diversion?"

Sevek did not even consult the detailed schedule on his PADD before replying, "We are due back on Earth in twenty-two days to attend the State of the Federation address, but if talks with the Argelians proceed according to plan, we will have four days that may be reallocated for personal business."

"Inform Ambassador Skon I will return home, schedule permitting," Sarek replied, and before Sevek could even ask, he added, "And inform your family as well. I will have no need of your assistance on my family estate."

Sevek offered a deferential nod. "Let us consume a midday meal and then review the dossier."

"I intend to meditate instead."

"Ambassador, you spent much of last night meditating."

"I am aware. I consider it necessary for my health. We will have time this evening to review the dossier and finalize the timeline for the negotiations with the Argelians."

Sevek gave a small bob of his head, indicating that he disapproved of Sarek's decision but would accept it anyway. Sarek retreated into his private bedroom, lit a set of candles, and adopted a sitting position on the floor.

He thought of his father's summons. It was no mystery to Sarek why he would recall his eldest son home to Vulcan. His father would urge him to take a formal mate. His forefather's passing last year had made Skon the head of the family and as Skon's eldest son, it was improper that he remained unbonded and without any heirs.

He had rejected the mate his parents had chosen for him as firmly as she had rejected him and for decades had satiated his pon farr with informal lovers, but now that he was an ambassador, his bachelorhood was no longer acceptable. Several months ago Sarek would have been receptive to the idea but now all he could think about was that he did not consider himself a bachelor. He had a mate, even if she was among the most inappropriate of mates. He tightened his mouth but not before his lips could form the word _Amanda_.


	20. The Calculus of Heartbreak

**Stardate 2229.05  
Local time: 1830 hours**

**Sy'mria Resort, Argelius II**

It was still early but the bar didn't seem to know it. Colorful drinks were flowing and space was at a premium. The screechy tune of an Andorian pop group reverberated through the speakers and it was a wonder anyone could hear even their own internal thoughts. Amanda sat at the end of the bar near the kitchen and an emergency exit, watching the quarter-finals of some local sport that looked like a convoluted cross between cricket and basketball and trying to keep out of the bartender's way.

A fruity blue and purple cocktail sat in front of her, leaking condensation from the glass onto the beverage napkin. Everywhere she looked people were gobbling this same concoction up, but to Amanda it tasted like a whiskey sour mixed with Worcestershire sauce. She doubted it was really that horrible and admitted she probably wasn't in a state to be judging the flavor of anything right now. She'd woken up early that morning with the strangest taste in the back of her throat and no matter how many times she brushed her teeth or how many glasses of salt water she gargled, it refused to go away.

The screen of her glowing PADD caught her attention but she didn't need to check it: no doubt it was her mother trying to reach her again. The entire time she'd been on the surface of Arg-117P, she'd thought about all the things she would tell her loved ones if she could just have one more chance to talk to them, and now here she was, hiding in a bar and squandering her reprieve.

She just didn't know how to tell anyone about what she'd gone through. She expected to receive intolerable pity or shock at best and accusations of lies or an overactive imagination at worst. And that was just over the fact that she'd lost several months of her life—how could anyone ever understand losing Sarek? Had she ever really _had_ Sarek though? Her chin quivered at the thought of him.

"Are you going to answer that?" the Argelian bartender asked, nodding to her PADD as he coated the rims of two glasses with a sugary orange powder.

"No," she sighed. "It's my mother."

"I see," he replied, offering a thin smile. Amanda wondered if mother problems were universal or if the bartender thought she was some kind of monster for ignoring the woman who gave birth to her. It was hard to say. His eyes glanced over her still mostly full cocktail as he turned his back and prepared to mix more drinks. Amanda suddenly realized he was hoping she would finish her drink and order another or give up her seat to someone more eager to spend credits.

It wasn't like she was in the mood to be in a bar full of revelers from the _Juniper Carnegie_ anyway, so she did them both a favor and left after depositing a handsome tip in his account. She squeezed her way back through the rapidly filling bar and out onto the terrace. The multi-colored lights of the planet's capital city stretched as far as she could see and she knew that somewhere out there, Sarek was doing ambassador things, being the important dignitary he was while she was trying to have a few drinks and forget about him.

A warm breeze came in off the ocean and she closed her eyes, trying to just be present in the moment. What had she really expected, anyway? Did she really think he would come running after her on the ship, catching her just before she got onto the shuttle just to profess his undying love for her? He was a Vulcan ambassador, not a character from a low-budget holoromance. Still, it crushed her.

"Cocktail, miss?"

She opened her eyes to see a short Argelian waiter carrying a tray with an assortment of vivid green and purple beverages. Did people here do anything besides get drunk?

"Um, do you have any water?"

He cocked his head and for a moment she wondered if he'd understood her. "We _do_. I suppose I could get a glass, special for you."

The tone of his voice made it seem like she'd asked him for a plate full of bloody eyeballs. "It's fine, actually," she replied. "Don't trouble yourself."

The waiter smiled, nodded, and turned crisply on his heel and walked away, eager to try his luck with other patrons. And there was no shortage of those. The terrace was less crowded but still quite bustling, so Amanda went down two levels to the promenade gardens overlooking the ocean. She swirled her tongue around in her mouth, wishing she could do something about the strange alkaline taste coating the back of her throat.

Her PADD glowed in her hand once again and realizing that it was much quieter out here and she no longer had the excuse of being in a noisy bar, she found a bench under a tree with pink flowers, took a deep breath, and slid her finger across the glass screen to accept her mother's call. Save for a few wrinkles and sprigs of gray hair, a person nearly identical to Amanda appeared on the PADD's surface.

"Hi, mom."

"Amanda! Where are you?"

"I'm on Argelius II in a garden at some resort."

"Why is it so dark there?"

"Because it's almost 1900 hours."

"Oh, how strange. It's only noon here."

Amanda fought against the natural instinct to roll her eyes. Her mother had a tendency to forget there was a whole universe beyond her own private little bubble and just because it was the middle of the day for her didn't mean that was true everywhere.

"You look so… _tired_ ," her mother continued. "Are you eating and sleeping alright? Have you lost weight?"

Amanda swallowed hard, not ready to begin the arduous task of explaining everything she'd been through right now. If her mother was having a hard enough time accepting there was a time difference between her home in New Chicago and a resort on a distant planet, how would she ever believe Amanda had lived two months of her life in the blink of her mother's eye? She decided to go with the first and laziest lie that came to mind.

"I had a stomach bug for the past few days but I'm feeling better."

"Of all the things to happen on your special trip!" lamented her mother. "I hope you're not eating the local food. You don't know what those people-"

" _Mom_!" Amanda interrupted, looking around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation and desperate to stop her mother before she said something unintentionally but still completely racist.

"Really honey, you look like you've lost a _lot_ of weight," her mother said, leaning closer to the camera and obscuring all but her eyes and most of her nose from view.

"It's probably just the lighting out here," Amanda lied.

"So have you met anyone?"

Amanda flinched. She wanted to tell _someone_ about Sarek. She needed someone to vent and cry with and her mother had always been supportive, but she definitely wouldn't understand this. No one would. "Uh… I've been sick, remember? Yeah, I've mostly been sleeping it off in my cabin. In fact, this is the first night I've been feeling pretty good so I should get back in the bar and mingle. Gotta make the most of the time I have left on this cruise, you know?"

"Oh yes! Don't let me keep you! Have a wonderful night, honey!"

"See you in a week."

Sliding her finger across the screen to end the call brought instant relief to at least one of her problems. She didn't feel like being alone in her room with her thoughts and her loneliness, but she didn't feel like being social either. Just as she was about to get up from the bench and seek out a glass of water to try rinsing out the awful taste in her mouth for the hundredth time, she heard a deep, British voice call her name. She twisted at the waist, draping her arm over the back of the bench and was greeted by the tall frame of Simon Brandon, the logistics manager she had met in another life threeish months earlier.

"Hi, Simon."

"You look…" His eyes scanned her frame, clearly stunned by what he saw. It took her a few seconds to realize how much thinner she was than the last time he saw her. As if to ward off whatever he might say next she said, "I'm getting over a stomach flu."

"I just saw you two days ago," he mused, his tone more questioning than accusatory.

"Yeah, I'm really dehydrated and haven't been sleeping well," she explained. "I know I look like hell."

"You look beautiful," he insisted, tucking his hands in his pockets and offering a kind grin.

Amazing how three little words could threaten to send tears down her cheeks. He was such a nice guy and if she'd never met Sarek, maybe she could see herself ending up with Simon or someone like him. But she had met Sarek, and… She swallowed hard. What was the point in sitting around holding a candle for a guy she would never see again?

"You want to go to dinner?" she suddenly blurted, mildly surprising Simon and shocking the hell out of herself.

"If you feel up to it, I suppose I could eat," he shrugged. "And I would never say no to such lovely company."

Ten minutes later they were sitting down in a small booth at some kind of fusion restaurant with eclectically-shaped dishes and old-style paper menus with only five entrées to choose from, each one written in four different languages. They both ordered a glass of water and Simon asked the waitress about the offerings on the menu and eventually decided on something that sounded vaguely like pasta. When she turned to take her order, Amanda declared, "Surprise me."

The waitress cocked her head and asked, "I do not understand."

"I'll eat whatever you bring me."

"Yes but what would you like to eat? You have a choice."

"I know. Just bring me anything from the menu I guess. I'm not picky."

The waitress flinched but gave a slow nod and wandered away, joining a group of other waitstaff by a computer in the corner. Soon she was pointing in Amanda's direction and they all took turns peeking in her direction, each looking more perplexed than the last. After the server on the terrace who was baffled by her appeal for water when all he had were cocktails and now this display, she was starting to get the impression that Argelians liked routine and order and weren't accustomed to special or unusual requests. So much for being carefree.

"I think you might have short-circuited the server," Simon grinned.

"Do you think I upset her, telling her to just bring me whatever?" Amanda asked, suddenly feeling guilty.

"She'll be fine. I will say it's brave though." He pointed to the menu and explained, "You do realize cy'nilra is a kind of vegetable that's been boiled in vinegar and served over fermented pasta, right?"

Amanda swirled her tongue around in her mouth, thinking that it sounded foul but couldn't be worse than the weird taste that had been plaguing her all day.

"I meant it when I said I'm not picky," she countered.

He laughed out loud, whether impressed by her brave palate or amused by her ambivalent confidence, she couldn't be sure. How could she tell him that just several days ago, she would have happily eaten fermented pasta just for the extra calories?

"To be fair there are five items on the menu, so maybe you won't end up with that one."

"No matter what she serves, I bet I clean my plate."

He flashed a broad smile. "So, unpicky Amanda, did you manage to read any books while you were sick in bed?"

"Huh?"

"I thought you liked to read old style paper books."

"Oh, yeah. But no, actually. I uh- I mostly just slept." She fidgeted in her seat. Maybe she should have invested more time in formulating a lie about what she'd been up to recently before rejoining society.

"Gotta get those fluids," he nodded. "You did inspire me to start reading the _Zap Gun_ again."

Amanda crinkled her nose. "I just never was a fan."

"I know," he grinned. "You said that the other day."

Had she? Yes, she probably had, now that she recalled having first met Simon Brandon while discussing another novel by Philip K. Dick. That was a whole _lifetime_ ago.

Before she could answer, the waitress deposited two glasses of water at their table and another server delivered two identical plates of what looked like meatballs served over rice. The waitress hovered nervously, evidently curious to find out if she'd chosen Amanda's meal wisely, but Amanda shot her a reassuring smile.

"Looks, alright, doesn't it?" Simon mused as he extracted a spoon-like utensil from a dispenser at the end of the table.

Amanda took a long draught of her drink, finishing nearly three-quarters of it in one go, but _still_ that awful damn taste refused to budge.

"Are you really that thirsty?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"I have this really weird taste in my mouth," she explained.

"Are you still sick?"

"I don't-" The thought that she might actually be sick troubled at her. What could having a rusty-metallic taste at the very back of her throat be a symptom of? "I don't think so. Anyway, the food looks good, yeah?"

The tucked into their meals and Amanda was delighted to find it was actually quite delicious and for a short time, allowed her to ignore the gross tang in her mouth. They ate in relative silence, serenaded only by the sounds of clinking dinnerware and the conversation drifting from other tables.

When Simon was done, he extracted the napkin from his lap, tossed it on the table, and asked, "Is everything ok?"

Amanda blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I realize you've been sick and I know don't know you all that well, but you seem really different than you did the other night. I can't tell if you're sad or just tired or maybe I should shut my fat mouth before I offend you."

It was hard not to smile at such genuine honesty and concern. The floundering expression on his face told Amanda that he didn't really know what to make of their pseudo-date and when she put herself in his shoes, she realized how flaky she must seem. She set her glass down and looked into his eyes and found them open, curious, and maybe a little bit uneasy.

"I've been feeling a little introspective lately," she cautiously admitted.

"Ok," he said slowly, elongating the word as if to encourage her to continue.

"I honestly didn't want to come on this cruise," she began. She pushed some of the remaining grains of rice around on her plate with her fork, arranging them into a semi-circle.

He delivered a half smile and said, "I know. You must have said so half a dozen times the other night."

He opened the door, so Amanda decided to barge through it. "But the thing is, the other night wasn't the other night for me. Something happened."

The face he wore when he patiently listened to other people's problems melted into one of utter bewilderment. She didn't bother leaving any room in the conversation for him to ask her what the hell she meant.

"Do you remember the night we met? How there was that weird emergency and the ship started rocking and we were all ordered to return to our rooms?"

"How could I forget?" he laughed and rubbed his right temple. "I smacked my head on the cabinet in the lavatory of my room. I still have the knot. There's a reason I told my mum to forget the idea of me following in my grandfather's footsteps and join Starfleet."

"Right, well, I ended up in an escape pod and got stranded on this remote planet."

"So _that's_ what you've been up to for the past few days?"

"To you it was a few days, but to me it was closer to three months. At least I think? It's kind of hard to say because the clocks were all screwy and days on Arg-117P run longer than standard days."

His eyes darted from one object to another around the table. He opened and closed his mouth several times.

"See, this is the part where you probably think I'm either joking or insane," she continued. "But it really happened. Starfleet was testing some kind of warp drive and it made a hole in the fabric of space time and so what felt like months to me felt like seconds to you."

He started to laugh but when he saw the stony expression on Amanda's face he wisely tamped his light mood. "I- I- you- you what?"

She gestured to her face. "Do you really think I could have lost this much weight from a mild twenty-four hour stomach flu?"

He thought to himself for a moment before saying, "No, I suppose not."

"To be honest, you're the first person I've told aside from the Starfleet people. I didn't think anyone would believe me. I'm not sure _you_ believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you; it's difficult to wrap my mind around."

"I can appreciate that. Just hearing myself tell you—it sounds ridiculous." Amanda ran her fingers through her hair: the sensation of her fingernails on her scalp was soothing.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, looking around at the rapidly filling restaurant.

"And go where?"

"Anywhere we can talk more privately."

Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, but they quickly settled things with the waitress and headed down the grand central spiral staircase to the third floor where Amanda's room was situated. She swiped her card on the access point and he waited patiently for her to invite him in, but she balked.

"Are we really just here to talk?"

"Absolutely," he replied, holding up his hands as if she were levying an accusation. "If this makes you uncomfortable, we could go somewhere more public, maybe the-"

She cut him off. "Are you interested in a relationship with me? I know that must be really forward, I would just prefer to know."

Amanda had no idea what made her ask such a serious question, but it seemed to her he was proposing a more serious turn in their casual acquaintance. She expected him to go red in the face and start blustering about how they barely knew each other, but he looked her dead in the eye and replied, "I suppose it _is_ a bit forward, but it fits with what I do know about you. I could honestly say I wouldn't rule it out."

Why did she have to start crying and make an already awkward night even worse? Her frustrated tears turned into sobs, and seeing Simon standing there, uncomfortably trying to figure out if he should make any attempt to comfort her, made everything so much worse.

Seeing two people at the opposite end of the hallway watching them, she ushered him inside and switched into overshare mode, blubbering about being alone in the escape pod for weeks and making it to the planet, and then eventually finding Sarek. Simon learned all about Sarek's many talents, from his aptitude with computers and math to building latrines and chimneys. She was halfway through describing finding Hornsby's shuttle when he stood, went to the latrine, and returned with a damp washcloth.

She wiped her face, blew her nose, and gasped, "I'm so sorry to unload all of this on you."

"It would be a tough thing for anyone to keep to themselves."

"I like you and I think you're a great person, it's just-"

"You're in love with this Sarek guy."

"What? _No_! I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It's pretty obvious from the way you're talking about him."

"I'm so sorry."

"For what? Don't be sorry for falling in love with someone. Sounds like you two went through a lot together and when you really think about the odds you both would wind up in the same place, it's pretty astronomical. Maybe it was meant to be."

Amanda cradled her face in her hands and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. Simon gently rubbed her back then rose to his feet. "Maybe I should go."

"Maybe you should. Thank you so much for listening to me. I honestly think I could have liked you."

He chuckled a bit and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Thanks?"

"Wow, that came out really bad," Amanda gulped. She dragged herself into a standing position and tightly wrapped her arms around her body.

"It's a pretty fair compliment given the situation, I suppose."

"Are you going to be ok in here by yourself or do you want me to stay?"

"I don't want to keep burdening you with my crazy story."

There was no question he was relieved. "Well then, good luck, Amanda Grayson."

"You too, Simon."

She walked him to the door, but before it closed behind him he turned and said, "You should probably let this Sarek fellow know how you feel. He sounds like good chap."

The door slid back into place, giving Amanda a wide area to rest her forehead on. Fresh tears began to trickle down her cheeks. If only it were possible to talk to him again. Why hadn't she told him how she felt? She was starting to wonder if walking away from him without saying anything was going to be the biggest mistake of her life.

* * *

**Stardate 2229.20  
Local time: 1915 hours**

**Shi'Kahr Province, Vulcan**

Brilliant red and orange hues struck the mountains as day faded into evening. It was a beautiful landscape and Sarek had not seen it in many months, but he hardly noticed. His mind was too preoccupied with other matters.

Talks with the Argelians had taken fifteen days, but both parties were satisfied. The Argelians would convert the largest and most temperate of Arg-117P's continents—the one Sarek and Amanda had called home for months—into a resort and the Federation would lay claim to the smaller continents for the site of a future Starfleet outpost.

His role in bartering this agreement had won Sarek much praise from his superiors within the Federation and earned him renewed focus from the Vulcan government. His future as a diplomat had never been brighter, which meant his wish to eventually return to his chosen field of astrophysics was now all but unattainable.

Vulcan had many renowned astrophysicists but too few accomplished diplomats. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, or the one, as Surak would claim. So it was only logical that he should continue to pursue public service, but it did not stop him from questioning whether it would be more beneficial for wider society if an individual pursued their interests over their aptitudes.

The car pulled around the tight switchback and began its descent to the valley floor, bringing the family estate into view. Nine generations of his family had been born in the regal house on the sloping hill at the end of the road, himself included, and though it was illogical he often felt a species of nostalgia whenever he thought about his home. Now he felt strangely uncomfortable and though he did his best to reign in this errant emotion, he knew why he was experiencing it. _Amanda_.

What would Amanda think of this place? Would she marvel in its beauty as he often had, or would she mock him for his privileged life? She had once teased him for growing up on a large estate, insisting such an upbringing must surely be some vestige of an antiquated classist system. Poverty had been eliminated on Vulcan many centuries ago, but a lack of poverty did not guarantee _absolute_ economic equality. No one on Vulcan lacked access to adequate food, shelter, education, medical care, or other necessities, but the quality and distribution of such resources could vary due to many factors.

He closed his eyes and stifled an array of feelings the began to bubble up from the depths of his consciousness. It had been two weeks since he last saw her, but the pain of separation still felt raw. Whenever he shut his eyes, he was always first met with the image of her on the _Mercury_ , being awkwardly led away by Lieutenant Jackson. He had been so overwhelmed by her anguish in that moment that he'd failed to recognize that some of it had been his own.

With time and physical distance, he could no longer sense Amanda as before. It would allow him to eventually free his mind of her, but it also it troubled him because he was not certain he wanted to be free of her. Why had he not gone after her and requested that they continue their friendship? Was what he had with Amanda even accurately defined as friendship?

The vehicle turned right onto the long road leading to the house and minutes later, pulled into the circular drive along the westward verandah. The door automatically folded aside and Sarek exited and smoothed his robes. He was home. It had been too long since he was last here.

He let himself in through the front door and was halfway through the main hall when he was greeted by T'Mara, a woman who had been in his family's employ since before Sarek's birth. She regarded him but said nothing, but he did not expect her to. It was customary for servants to wait to be greeted before speaking.

He lifted his right hand in the ta'al and said, "Live long and prosper, T'Mara."

She offered a small bow of her head, returned the ta'al, and replied, "Live long and prosper, Ambassador Sarek. Your father and forefather welcome you."

"I was unaware Solkar would be here," Sarek replied. His father had not mentioned it, but Solkar's presence only cemented Sarek's suspicion that Skon had invited him home to press him into matrimony.

"He has only just arrived and is with your father in the dining room. You are to join them for end meal. I have your former room prepared for your visit and will instruct Loren to unpack your things."

"Very well," he replied, resisting the urge to thank her. While he was grateful for T'Mara's careful attention to detail, it was generally impolite to excessively thank servants, particularly for simply performing their duties. Where had this impulse for excessive gratitude come from? Perhaps he had been in the company of humans too long.

Sarek entered the dining room and found his father sitting at the head of the table, his forefather sitting to his right. He greeted each of them in turn and was invited to sit, so he walked around the table and took the seat to his father's left, facing Solkar. Both of them studied Sarek's face, barely able to conceal their curiosity.

It was peculiar to see his father occupy a seat held by Solkar for much of Sarek's life, but now that his foremother was deceased, Solkar's son Skon was by convention the head of the household. Because Sarek had no sisters or other female relations to supersede his claim, the estate would pass to Sarek upon his mother's death.

"Your mother sends her regrets that she could not be here this evening," Skon said. "She is in Gol with your uncle but will arrive tomorrow. I am told your negotiations with the Argelians went as expected."

"They did. I believe both the Federation and Argelians are satisfied with the arrangement."

"As am I. Your performance was commendable."

Sarek gave his father a small bow of his head and turned to acknowledge his forefather. "I am honored to serve, as both you and Solkar have served."

"If you are honored to serve, you would serve your family well by taking a mate," Solkar announced. His eyes rested on Sarek, cold and unflinching.

While Vulcans were widely regarded for their direct nature, his forefather had a unique talent for candor. As he aged, his patience for restraining his opinion had become quite diminished.

"I am still quite young," Sarek began, intending to remind Solkar that he was still establishing himself as a diplomat and wasn't focused on finding a mate at present, but Solkar interrupted him.

"Your father and myself, as well as my father before me were all bonded and had fathered children by the age of sixty. You are sixty-four."

"I am aware of my age," Sarek replied. The door behind Sarek opened and a servant appeared with a long, rectangular dish.

Solkar glared at the man as he set it on the table: it would be a severe breach of etiquette to discuss private family matters in front of the domestic staff. He departed the room quickly and the door had scarcely shut behind him when Solkar continued, "If you had only taken the mate your parents selected for you, we would not be in this situation."

Sarek took a slight pause to suppress a feeling of annoyance before he countered by saying, "I fail to see what situation that is."

"Without an heir, you threaten the legacy of this family."

Sarek had not intended to affront his forefather, but the words found their way out of his mouth before he really had time to consider their implications. "Which might be concerning if I were approaching my second century of life as you are, but as I previously stated, I am quite young and have plenty of time to preserve this estate before it is truly threatened with abeyance."

"I did not come here to be insulted."

"Nor did I."

It was taking greater effort to suppress a number of distasteful emotions. Perhaps he was not entirely recuperated from his most recent pon farr, or perhaps Amanda had made a more lasting impression upon him than he realized.

"And I did not invite you both here to give insult to each other," Skon interjected, rising to his feet to begin serving the meal.

Sarek and Solkar stood as well. It was customary for the head of the household to serve his or her guests, and it was also customary for the guests to stand when the head of the household did.

Skon spooned a moderate helping of the bean casserole onto Sarek's plate, prompting him to say, "That will be sufficient." Once again, he had to fight the impulse to offer thanks. Skon then served Solkar and himself, and soon three generations tucked into their end meal in tense silence.

When they were finished, Solkar retired for the evening but Sarek knew their discussion regarding his bachelor status was far from complete and would be revisited at the next available opportunity. Perhaps this temporary reprieve from admonishment was wise, as it would serve both of them well to meditate on it before speaking of it again.

Sarek followed his father into a private sitting room and situated himself in a high-backed chair overlooking the balcony. He expected his father to sit and pour himself a glass of k'vass, a ritual he'd performed almost every night of his life since Sarek had been alive, but he stationed himself by the enormous sliding glass doors and folded his hands behind his back.

"Your forefather has always spoken plainly," Skon finally said, not bothering to turn and look at his son.

"I am aware."

"But he also speaks truly."

They were quiet for a long time as Sarek steeled his mind against the frustration that came from the need to defend his decision to remain unbonded once again. His father waved his hand and the glass doors began to stack into one another, removing the partition between the sitting room and the cool, arid night air. He stepped out onto the balcony, turned to face his son, and said, "Join me."

Sarek followed his father onto the terrace, suddenly feeling very tired.

"You played here often as a child."

"Yes, I recall."

"As you grew older, you would take I-Chaya down the stairs and wander off into the desert for hours."

Sarek recalled that too. His father had been forbidden him from leaving the surrounding property, but Sarek had done it anyway on countless occasions. Sometimes his father had caught him and punished him, but other times he had gotten away with it.

"Why do you remind me of this?"

"Because I do not want yours to be the final generation to share such memories in this place."

"You intend to pressure me to take a mate also?"

"It is improper for you to remain unbonded, now that your foremother is no longer alive."

"I do not wish to remain alone indefinitely, but my duties on Earth preclude me from finding a suitable mate on Vulcan."

"You will not be ambassador to Earth for the rest of your life. In fact, I should not expect you to remain on Earth for more than a few years. Your forte for arbitration is becoming apparent to the Vulcan Diplomatic Service and it is likely you will be reassigned to a position more worthy of your talent when your minimum tenure on Earth has expired."

"That will not be for another two and a half standard years. Unless you would have me take a human mate or resign my post, you will have to be patient."

"There is a third, far less radical option you have failed to consider," Skon said. He rested his hands on the stone wall encasing the balcony.

Sarek already knew what he was going to say. "You would ask my permission to contract a second betrothal on my behalf?"

"It is the custom."

"I am no longer a child."

"And often when adults find themselves unbonded, many still permit their parents to guide their decision in selecting a mate for themselves."

"The mate who was chosen for me in my youth was a poor match. You believe you can do better a second time?"

"I know your mind far better now than I did when you were seven years old."

Sarek briefly thought of his regard for Amanda and seriously doubted it. "Who would you have me bonded to?"

"A colleague of mine in the Diplomatic Service has a daughter, T'Vala, who is recently widowed. They are a good family, an old family. She holds an advanced degree in astrobiology from the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Characteristics which qualify her for many things but give little indication what sort of mate she would make."

"It would be unusual to possess affection for a woman you do not know, but when two people follow logic and share similar goals, mutual respect and affection typically follow."

"That is how it was with you and my mother?"

Skon's features hardened slightly. Sarek's question was purely rhetorical. It was well known that Skon met Sarek's mother when she was working as a primary school teacher and rejected the mate his parents chose for him in favor of her.

"I merely urge you to meet with T'Vala and decide whether you are interested in pursuing the match. If you do not find her suitable, I know of several other-"

"No," Sarek interrupted.

"Clarify."

Sarek gazed long and hard at his father as he tried to clarify his answer to himself. Was he rejecting his father's offer or rejecting the idea of taking a mate altogether?

"I do not require you to select a mate for me."

"If you insist on making your own choice, perhaps you could take a sabbatical and return to Vulcan for a time."

"No."

His simple refusal carried more defiance than he intended. His father turned to him. "Since you were a child you have always elected to follow your own path, regardless of my guidance. Your mother often indulged your intransigence, but I had hoped you would learn to allow logic to guide your actions as you grew older."

Sarek looked away from his father, gazing out over the starlit desert and the mountains in the distance. "I cannot deny I have made many mistakes."

"Mistakes are the inevitable result of inexperience," his father replied. "The most grave mistake is continuing to repeat them."

"I have become a disappointment to you."

"You often disappoint me, but you are not a disappointment. You are my son. I do not believe you will adequately understand my position until you have a child of your own."

"Perhaps not," Sarek replied. He turned away from Skon and walked back toward the house, certain his next decision would be among the most shocking of all transgressions he'd ever committed in his father's eyes.

"Where are you going?" Skon called after him.

Without look back Sarek replied, "To correct a mistake."


	21. Amanda's Surprise

**Stardate 2229.25**

**New Chicago, North American continent, Earth**

A biting, icy wind whipped Amanda's face as she dug her hands further into her pockets and crept up the long walkway to the school. Why hadn't she noticed how cold it was when she stepped out of her apartment earlier? Or better yet, why hadn't she remembered it was the middle of winter in New Chicago? Had it been this cold on Arg-117P?

She tried to pick up the pace, not only because it felt like she was braving the Arctic tundra but also because she was horribly late. The post-break faculty meeting had started half an hour ago and she was sure to receive the highest degree of teasing. She could already hear Mrs. Herron asking, " _Enjoy the break a little too much, did we_?"

The truth was, she'd wanted to call in sick. She _was_ sick. She had been home for nearly two weeks but was having difficulty settling back into her old routine. Sleep had become a favorite past-time. The disgusting, pseudo-metallic taste in the back of her mouth refused to dissipate and to make matters worse, she'd woken up that morning feeling queasy, a symptom that was no doubt some kind of microbial love letter from the questionable pizza she'd found in the back of the preserver and eaten for dinner the night before.

But was a little fatigue and nausea and a gross taste in the back of her mouth enough to keep her home? She was starting to wonder if most of her symptoms were psychological in origin rather than physical. She could easily admit she was depressed, but it was a tougher thing to figure out what to do about it. Sarek had never been her partner in any formal sense, but she still felt like she was in the midst of a painful breakup, the kind that often resulted in binge-eating the wrong foods and disrupted sleep and occasional utterances of "What's so _wrong_ with me?" while staring into the bathroom mirror after a long shower.

No, she couldn't call out of work because she was sad. She would soldier through it, eventually get over Sarek, and get her old mediocre life back together. It was a good thing she'd come to this conclusion when she did, because she had just reached the front entrance to the school.

It took a little while to figure out where she was supposed to be at this hour and by the time she found her way to the conference room for the mini-workshop on science education, it was very nearly over. She sat down with the other sixth-grade teachers but the moment she did, Mrs. Herron turned from her seat at the adjacent table and asked, "Must have enjoyed the break a little too much, I see. Welcome back, Miss Grayson."

Amanda wondered if it were possible to injure one's eyes by rolling them too hard. Pretty much all of the faculty was on a first-name basis with each other when students were out of earshot, but Alice Herron clung to the very old-fashioned use of titles and last names as though it were 1929 rather than 2229. When the mini-workshop ended fifteen minutes later, everyone filed into the main auditorium to pick over the remains of stale coffee and doughnuts and Amanda found herself facing the moment she'd been dreading for the past two weeks. Sarah Simmons went first.

"Amanda! How was your cruise?"

"It was fine." It was an automatic answer that had come rushing out of her mouth just a little too fast.

"You don't get to tour the stars on a singles cruise and come back and say, 'it was fine.' You must have had _some_ fun. Did you meet anyone?"

Suddenly there were six pairs of eyes and ears upon her, all of them desperate for details. Why had she forgotten to set her alarm? If she hadn't been late, the lie about her "uneventful cruise" could have faded into the background of other people's tales about fancy ski trips and visits to Arizona to visit elderly relatives, but now that everyone had exchanged the relevant details of their vacations with each other, Amanda was the only one left who might serve as a potential source of fun new gossip.

"I swear, it really wasn't very interesting," she insisted, swallowing the taste of vomit at the back of her throat.

"Tell us about it anyway," grinned Miranda Bruner. "It has to be better than being stuck at home catching up on laundry and doing craft projects with the kids."

Without really thinking, Amanda blurted, "Ok fine. I got stranded on a deserted planet with an attractive Vulcan and as we relied on each other for survival, we eventually became friends and then lovers until we were rescued by Starfleet."

The stunned, blank looks on each of their faces slowly melted into mirth. They laughed. Of course they laughed. Who _wouldn't_ laugh at such an obvious fabrication? It didn't even sound like a lie as much as it sounded like the plot of a sordid romance novel.

"What did you _really_ do?" Miranda asked, finally calming down from her hysterics.

Amanda shrugged, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears. "I stayed in my cabin on the ship, read some books, had a few drinks at the bar, and met a nice guy from Bristol. He was nice, but we're better off as friends. Anyway, what did you all do over the holiday?"

"I had the best time in New York City!" Samantha Chen gushed. She'd obviously been dying for someone to ask. She launched into a detailed account of each mandatory pilgrimage to every tourist destination in the five boroughs. She was nearly finished with an account of figure skating in Central Park when they were all ushered into another classroom for more professional development activities.

Amanda wanted to pay attention, but her indifferent mood coupled with her lousy physical state conspired to keep her zoned out. She swore the moment she got home she would don a pair of sweatpants and not rise from her bed until it was time to teach class on Monday morning. From the outside it was a truly depressing set of plans, but as the day wore on, she found herself looking more and more forward to it.

Lunch was served in the auditorium, a classic buffet spread of little sandwiches and fruit cups and salads of every variety. Several weeks ago the bland faire would have looked like a feast, but now even despite her hunger, none of it looked particularly appetizing. She forced herself to take a sweet ham sandwich and an apple, but the moment she came within a meter of the potato salad, something went wrong.

The smell was so pungent she could practically _taste_ it. She liked potato salad well enough usually, but now even the _thought_ of it made her want to vomit. She backed away and tried to clear her mind. Bile charged up her esophagus and by the time she realized she could do nothing to contain it, it was too late. She raced for the exit, tossing her plate on the top of a trashcan and groping desperately at the door. When it became clear she would never make it to the lavatory in time, she counted herself lucky there was a waste basket tucked beneath a water fountain that she could hurl the contents of her stomach into. It was mostly just saliva and water and when she was sure she was done, her stomach churned angrily and the indignity of being almost completely empty.

"Miss Grayson, are you feeling ill?"

Amanda clenched her jaw, wiped her mouth, and fought the urge to say, " _No, I'm barfing into a trash can because I feel perfectly splendid_!" She turned around to face Mrs. Herron and said, "I've been feeling a little under the weather today."

"That's a shame," the older woman cooed. "Why don't you go home and get some rest and we'll see you on Monday?"

The no-nonsense side of Amanda wanted to protest and insist she could push through, but the weariness overruled it. "If you're sure it's no trouble…"

"None at all. Feel better, ok?"

She couldn't leave fast enough. On her way home, she got off the bus two stops ahead of her usual stop to duck into Preston's Market to pick up enough ready-made meals to get her through the weekend and some peppermint tea to help with her upset stomach.

The shop was warm and well-lit but the assault of so many aromas emanating from the chef's case near the entrance threatened to make her sick all over again. She breezed past it to the aisles of merchandise near the back of the store and found her way to the aisle with coffee, tea, and other hot beverage supplies from all over the Federation. She was debating between the lemon and peppermint teas when a small black box with gold trim and loopy, vertical lettering sitting on a lower shelf caught her eye.

The little electronic sign beneath it described it as "Vulcan b-fast tea 1 box (16 units)." It wasn't just the fact that it was Vulcan in origin that made her wistful. Sarek had longed for Vulcan breakfast tea in much the same way she had dreamt of chocolate cake. Without another thought she shoved a box of it into her handbasket, along with several varieties of the lemon and peppermint teas, and headed toward the ready-made meals section.

Fifteen minutes later she was shivering up the street toward her apartment with two bags filled with three boxes of tea and eight turkey and mashed potato with gravy dinners. Ordinarily the beige and gray-colored food wouldn't have seemed all that appealing but it was the only thing that didn't turn her stomach upon simply looking at it. She was starting to wonder if she could visit the urgent care doctor on the corner, but the duotronic sign out front of High Street Urgent Care listed the current estimated waiting room time at three hours and fifteen minutes.

How audacious to call themselves urgent care if people were waiting three hours to be seen by a medical professional. Deciding she really wasn't that sick and reasoning that she should get home and put her groceries in the preserver, Amanda continued past the urgent care clinic and on to her apartment building. Most days she elected to take the stairs but today she rode the lift up to the fourth floor and hobbled to apartment 4F.

The pain of her empty stomach seemed to be making her more nauseated, so she tossed one of the dinners in the instant oven and put a kettle on. As it turned out, the Vulcan breakfast tea Sarek thought so highly of was not only delicious and helped take the edge off her nausea, it did wonders for the bizarre taste in the back of her mouth that had been plaguing her for weeks. She threw a blanket around her shoulders and settled in on her sofa with her turkey dinner and Vulcan tea and a holoprogram about the Canada lynx. It was 1500 hours on a Friday afternoon and even though no one was around to see how miserable her life had become, Amanda almost mentally dared anyone to say something.

The show she thought was about a North American wildcat actually ended up being a broader program titled "Cuddly Carnivores" and featured not only the Canada lynx, but the Andorian ice bear and some kind of fanged otter-like creature native to Tellar Prime. She was starting to doze off when the commentator made mention of the Fire Plains of Vulcan. The holographic image of a large, beefy animal with saber teeth and teddy bear eyes came into focus. It was something called a sehlat, an animal which Vulcans had semi-domesticated over the past millennium. She couldn't imagine living with something larger than a St. Bernard that had teeth like a walrus. What if Sarek had kept one of these things as a pet?

In this quiet moment of solitude, the thought of his name was enough to make her wince. How could she _still_ be so broken up over someone she'd only known for two months? Someone she hadn't even seen in three weeks? He clearly wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with her—he would have found a way to get in touch with her if he was—and besides, that cool, logical demeanor of his that had seemed so endearing on Arg-117P would almost certainly be annoying anywhere else.

What was so great about him anyway? He was just a _guy_ , some random person she had survived an incredible ordeal with. She picked up her PADD from the coffee table and opened a browser. She had entered his name into the search bar so many times in the past few weeks but had never worked up the courage to actually hit search.

It was ridiculous really, the feeling that if she were to search for him on the Internet that he would somehow find out and think she was desperately stalking him. She held her breath and traced her finger over the search key and like magic, there he was. The first image that appeared was a portrait of him wearing some kind of dark blue tunic and gazing into the camera. The photograph came from a Standard translation of an archived page from the Vulcan Science Academy, circa two years ago. Upon clicking the link, she found a slew of information about complex topics in astrophysics that she barely understood.

She studied his picture more closely. His face was familiar but the very subtle expression surprised her. He looked _happy_ , almost, even if he wasn't doing anything that would even closely resemble smiling. She hit the back button and found a second portrait, this one more recent. He was wearing black and silver robes and sitting against a background with the light blue Federation flag flanked by the Terran and Vulcan flags. His official portrait as Vulcan ambassador to Earth. He looked far less content in this photograph. She traced her fingers over the outline of his face, almost as if it would help cheer him up.

Her lip began to quiver and she quickly turned her PADD off and burst into tears. She cried the same kind of self-pitying ugly cry that she'd had on the floor of the shower on the _Mercury_ , working herself up into a frenzy until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

"Maybe this last one will be your lucky stop, eh?"

Sarek stole a glance at the cab driver but said nothing. When he'd hired this person for the day, he had insisted upon discretion but he was getting the sense that this middle-aged human man wasn't made for being discreet.

He slid out of the backseat on his own. Terran cab drivers apparently weren't in the habit of opening the door for their fares. "Wait here."

"Hey, I'll wait here as long as I have to. I'm yours for the day, remember?"

"Yes, I recall." Sarek strode up the narrow sidewalk, studying the numbers on the dingy buildings.

It had taken three days to return to Earth via civilian transport from Vulcan and another half day to travel from London to New Chicago. He'd arrived in New Chicago at 0600 hours and deciding that it would be impolite to call on Amanda before dawn, he'd secured himself lodgings at a respectable hotel near the government district and taken a light first meal of fruit and some kind of thick broth that humans called "grits."

He had asked the hotel concierge for Amanda's address, only to be informed that out of New Chicago's estimated 2.1 million residents, eleven of them were called "Amanda Grayson" and an additional two were named "Amanda Greyson." If that search were expanded to nearby suburbs, the total number of Amanda Graysons in the area climbed to seventeen in total.

It occurred to him that he could simplify his search by getting in contact with the Vulcan consulate and asking for information—they employed researchers to prepare dossiers on Terran individuals he was expected to meet with—but his business with Amanda was personal in nature. Not only would it be an abuse of his power to track her down through the consulate, it would also expose a facet of his private life to his staff that he would prefer remained private.

So he allowed logic to narrow down his search. Additional research had eliminated four possible candidates—each of these Amanda Graysons were enrolled in primary or secondary schools throughout the city and therefore too young to be his Amanda. He had also managed to reach four more via telelink and confirm they were not the Amanda Grayson—or Greyson—he was looking for. Three had been quite curious about his search and had offered sympathetic wishes of good luck, the fourth had been quite rude.

With a list narrowed down to nine and no other obvious means of isolating his Amanda from the rest without resorting to using his consular credentials, he was forced to visit each of them in person. It was late in the afternoon and he'd already visited the addresses of eight of the nine and met with a single mother with three unruly children, a horticulturalist, a social care worker, and the owner of a diner called Little Mandy's. The other four had either not been at home or had not answered the door.

When he found 310 McGuffy Street, Apartment B, he strolled up the landing and rang the bell. The same feeling of panic he'd experienced every time he'd made first contact with each Amanda resurfaced, but as he had done on each occasion before, he suppressed the unpleasant emotion. After so much time to reflect upon meeting her once again, he still wasn't certain what he was supposed to say. Would she even want to see him?

An elderly woman came to the door wearing bright eyes and a bold smile. "Can I help you?"

"May I speak with Amanda Grayson?"

"Well, that's me!"

"I see. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

He turned and started to leave but she called after him. "Can I ask what this was about?"

He stopped on the bottom step and explained, "I am looking for a woman named Amanda Grayson who is a young school teacher. Evidently it is a common name."

"I was young once," the woman cackled. "I was never a school teacher though."

"Thank you for your time," he replied.

She gently stroked her neck. "I hope you find the one you're looking for!"

He gave a small nod. "Thank you."

When he returned to the cab, he found the driver playing some kind of game on his PADD. Without looking up he called over his shoulder. "Strike out again?"

He knew from an earlier conversation with the driver that "strike out" was a euphemism for failure. "Yes."

"Sorry to hear that. Should I take you back to the hotel now?"

Sarek thought to himself for a moment. He was not often given to impulsive behavior, and travelling all over a large city to find a woman he had only known for several months to request that she become his mate fit the definition of impulsive quite easily. For a fleeting instant, he thought it was better that he hadn't found her. Perhaps she did not wish to be found.

"I could take you somewhere to get a bite to eat, or- it's really up to you."

Sarek checked his PADD and replied, "Kindly take me back to 1700 High Street."

The brick apartment building in a bustling neighborhood in the Western part of the city had been his second stop of the day, but the doorman had been unable to reach the occupant of apartment 4F. Based on the rather chatty doorman having revealed that she'd just left to go to work and that she worked at a school twenty blocks away, he had reason to believe this Amanda Grayson was the correct one.

It took forty-five minutes to reach the apartment building and as he approached the entrance, he realized the doorman was nowhere in sight. A few moments later, a woman walking a small dog exited the building and held the door open for him to enter. He wasn't entirely sure what the correct protocol was—he sensed the doorman was part of the building's security personnel and that he should wait to be invited in, but the doorman hadn't been particularly helpful earlier that morning and the woman with the tiny dog technically _had_ invited him in.

He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and when he found himself standing in front of apartment 4F, he rang the bell and waited. The sounds of footsteps approaching the door filled him with the same anxiety he'd felt all day, but when the door opened, his apprehension disappeared.

Amanda Grayson, _his_ Amanda Grayson, stood before him. Her hair was in tangles around her face, her eyes were puffy, and she wore a blanket over her shoulders, but she was as lovely as she had ever been. He experienced a jolt of surprise, and then to his own surprise, he sensed her supreme joy. Her mouth fell open and she began to ramble, "Sarek? What are you- how did you- what are you doing here?"

"I have come to speak with you."

She smiled broadly, which pleased him, then reduced the size of her grin and asked, "How did you even get in the building though? I mean, I'm glad you're here and it's wonderful to see you." The color of her face reddened and she took several steps back, swallowing very hard several times. "Why don't you come inside?"

"I regret if I have come at an inopportune time." He stepped across the threshold and lingered in the front entry.

"No, it's fine. It's great, actually. I'm so glad to see you."

She was "glad" to see him. It was "great" to see him. This pleased him very much and set him more at ease. He gave a small bow of his head and glanced around her home. A holographic program featuring honey bees played in the sitting room and the remains of some kind of meal were sitting in a low table next to an overstuffed sofa.

"Um, so what do you need to talk to me about?" she asked.

He paused, thinking over the speech he had prepared in his mind over the past three days. Suddenly it seemed inadequate. Perhaps it would be untoward to simply launch into the real reason for his visit—humans so often preferred indirect methods for all negotiations.

"I have come- I wish to-"

Amanda gave him a peculiar look and he tried to collect himself and begin again, but her complexion was rapidly shifting from scarlet to gray. He was just beginning to utter the phrase, "I have come to ask if you would consider becoming my mate" when she clapped a hand over her mouth and ran out of the room. A few seconds later the sounds of retching and splashing drifted down the hallway.

He had come while she was ill. The polite thing to do would be to excuse himself, but he did not wish to leave. It had taken so long to find her. She had said she was "glad" to see him, though he knew humans often said things they did not mean out of politeness.

"Amanda, are you well?" he called.

He was greeted by the sound of more vomiting.

His confidence began to fail him. "Perhaps I should come back at another time."

The splashing became more urgent and she called back, "Please don't go. I'm so sorry. Please stay."

He waited five more minutes and when she reappeared, it was evident she had washed her face and combed her hair. He had the distinct impression she remained quite nauseated, even if she was smiling.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled. "I've been feeling a bit under the weather today."

"Is that a euphemism for ill?"

She laughed and wrapped her arms around her body. "Yes."

He thought of the medical staff commenting on irregularities in her bloodwork and wondered if her current condition was related to that, but it would be extremely rude to inquire as to the specific cause of her vomiting.

"Um, anyway, can I get you something to drink? I actually bought some Vulcan breakfast tea at a market today and it was delicious. I don't know if it's the real thing you like to drink, but I liked it well enough."

He normally took breakfast tea in the morning, but he was intrigued. "If it is not too much trouble for you to prepare, I would happily accept your offer."

"It might actually be some of the best tea I've ever had," she said, wandering around the corner and flipping on a light in an adjacent room, which he presumed was the kitchen. There was a soft but unmistakable shake in her voice.

He wondered if he should follow her but he had not been invited to do so. The kitchen was a sacred area in a Vulcan home, visited only by family and close friends. He waited, and just as he had decided to commit a small breach of Vulcan etiquette by entering the kitchen when he had not been explicitly invited, he was startled by a loud crash of metal on the floor followed almost immediately by a loud thump. He found her unconscious in a pool of water, the kettle overturned beside her. Despite all his logic, it took incredible effort not to panic.

* * *

"I just got a little dizzy," Amanda groaned, swatting at the tube coming out of her left arm. "I certainly don't think momentarily passing out rises to the level of requiring hospitalization."

"Your friend was right to call for a medical transport," the nurse insisted. "You are extremely dehydrated."

"I'll drink more water," she promised glumly. "Do you know- is the guy who called for the transport here?"

"I don't know," the nurse sighed. "Probably not though. You've only been here ten minutes and we only use the transporter for patients. Friends and family have to come the old-fashioned way, I'm afraid."

It seemed so impossible, almost to the point where she was wondering if she'd imagined Sarek being in her apartment at all. The last thing she remembered was standing at the sink filling the kettle to make some tea, and then she'd woken up here a few minutes ago. Apparently, she'd passed out and Sarek had called for help. The puking had been mortifying enough, but now _this_?

"I really need to get out of here," she insisted, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly messing with the IV in her arm.

"You'll wait until we get fluids in you and the lab comes back with your bloodwork," the nurse replied. Her manner was stern yet kind in an almost grandmotherly sort of way, which probably made her perfectly suited for her profession. Who would want to pick a fight with someone's nice grandma?

"I really need to find my friend," she explained. "He came to visit me unexpectedly and he might still be at my apartment, wondering what he should do."

"I can provide you with a PADD, if you'd like to contact him and let him know what's going on."

"It's not that easy," Amanda groaned. "I don't have his information."

"The nurse cocked an eyebrow. "Must be some friend."

"It's complicated."

"Yes, I can see that."

Another woman entered the room, this one wearing blue medical scrubs beneath a white medical smock. She was perhaps ten years older than Amanda with dirty blond hair and kind brown eyes. "Amanda Grayson?"

"Yes."

"Hi there, my name is Dr. Heather Kowalczyk. I heard you took a tumble."

"Yeah, I guess so. Listen, I really feel fine-"

"You feel fine or you feel healthy?" Dr. Kowalczyk asked. "I wouldn't say they're the same thing. You can be sick as a dog but 'fine' enough to go to work, for example."

"I haven't been feeling all that great lately, it's true," Amanda agreed. "But I've felt worse and after all the weird stuff in the past few months, it could probably be worse."

"What have you been going through?" The seriousness of her tone gave Amanda pause.

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"I'm a doctor. Try me."

"I was on a cruise and got stranded on a remote planet in this weird time bubble thing for a few months. Almost froze to death on a few occasions. Very nearly starved to death. You know, _weird_ stuff."

The doctor's eyebrows flicked upward. She clearly hadn't been expecting Amanda to say _that_ , but her cool demeanor hinted that she probably had heard wilder tales.

"All alone on a planet for months? That must have been very difficult. Did you have any contact with-"

"I wasn't alone," she interrupted. "I was there with- with a Vulcan man. We were able to survive together." She decided to leave out the part about Sarek being an ambassador, deciding it was an irrelevant detail and might come across as pretentious.

The doctor's face finally registered genuine surprise. Her eyes flicked toward the PADD in her hands, darting back and forth and giving the impression she was reading very quickly.

"In fact, he's the one who called for the transport," Amanda continued. "I need to get out of here so I can go talk to him."

"Miss Grayson-"

"Please, call me Amanda."

"Ok then, Amanda, I don't know how to say this any other way than to just come out and say it. Is there any chance you could be pregnant by this Vulcan friend of yours? Or another Vulcan, perhaps?"

The audacity of the question was quickly eclipsed by Amanda's shock at it. "What? _No_. I mean, we're not even the same _species_."

"I understand that, but did you engage in sexual intercourse with him?"

Drool started to pool in Amanda's mouth and she felt another bout of vomiting coming on, this time induced by sheer terror rather than legitimate sickness. Or was it _morning_ sickness?

"I- I mean- we- we uh…"

Dr. Kowalczyk gently set a hand on Amanda's shoulder. "I can run the bloodwork again. In fact, I had ordered another blood panel because I was almost certain there must have been some kind of mix-up in the lab, but in light of this information-"

"What are you saying?"

"You have both human and Vulcan pregnancy hormones in your blood. It appears you are pregnant and based on the levels, I'd say you're about six weeks along."

How long ago had it been? Even with the odd calculations for the time dilation, six weeks sounded about right. Amanda twisted her body to lean over the side of the bed just as a stream of vomit flowed from her mouth. "H- how- how could this be happening?"

Dr. Kowalczyk rubbed her back and the nurse appeared with a glass of water. "I never thought- it never even occurred to me- he's _Vulcan_."

"While extremely rare, cross-species natural conceptions have been reported. I'm going to refer you to an obstetric specialist who has a lot of experience in handling hybrid pregnancies."

Amanda shook her head. " _What_? I can't have a _baby_. How am I supposed to have a baby? A half-Vulcan baby?"

"It's obvious this is a bit of a shock."

"What do I do?" Amanda pleaded, tears blurring her vision. "What am I supposed to tell him?"

Dr. Kowalczyk offered a sympathetic smile. "The truth is usually best, I've always found."

* * *

It was nearly 2100 hours by the time Sarek was permitted beyond the set of swinging double doors and directed down the hallway to Room 202. There was an electronic sign on the door that read, _Grayson, Amanda_. He knocked softly.

"Come in." Her voice was husky and strained.

He entered to find her sitting upright in a reclining hospital bed. She wore hospital robes and was tucked neatly beneath a faded white blanket with a faint blue pattern woven into it. Red color streaked through her cheeks when she laid eyes on him.

"Sarek?"

"The hospital staff informed me you were asking to see me."

Tears brimmed in her eyes. "I'm so glad you're here. You didn't have to wait, but still, I'm so glad you did."

"I was concerned for your well-being."

She wiped away the moisture in her eyes and began playing with the edge of the blanket. "I'm sorry to have caused all this trouble."

"There is no need to apologize for that which is beyond your ability to control."

"There's something I need to talk to you about," she whispered.

"There is something I wish to discuss with you as well," he replied.

"Maybe you should sit down," she said, gesturing toward a chair on the opposite side of her bed.

He sat as she had instructed him to do and waited for her to say what she needed to say. Her mouth formed a number of silent syllables until she eventually mumbled, "Maybe you should go first."

"I am not entirely certain a hospital is the most appropriate setting for what I wish to discuss with you."

"You might as well just say it," she said, her eyes beginning to glisten once again.

He sat up straighter in the chair, pausing to collect his thoughts and subdue his erratic emotions. "While I suppose a hospital is not a traditional place for what I must say, I confess there is nothing traditional about what I intend to propose. It is my desire that you will permit me to become your mate."

Amanda's sucked in a slow breath. " _What_?"

"In human terms, I am proposing marriage."

"Sarek, I- I really don't know what to say. We barely know each other."

"I am aware. However, I have considered this carefully. I believe we are quite compatible-"

"We fought all the time when we were down on the planet."

"Did we? I had never considered our discussions to be combative."

"I'm emotional. I would only drive you mad."

"I am logical. I am not in the habit of being driven to madness."

She laughed and buried her face in her hands. When she finally pulled them away, it was evident she was crying. He wanted to comfort her, but he chose to remain seated.

"I really don't know what to say."

"Matrimony is a serious endeavor and I do not expect an immediate reply. You must think it over and discuss it with your family. I do not imagine adjusting to life with a Vulcan mate will be easy for you, but it is my hope that in time-"

"What do you think about children?"

"I presume you mean to ask whether I wish to procreate with you."

Her face went even redder and she hid her eyes behind her hands. "Yes, Sarek. _Procreate_. Fine."

He had considered it of course. "The burden of carrying a child would largely fall to you and therefore I feel as though my opinion on the matter is not as relevant as yours. If you wish to have children-"

"It's not a matter of _wishing_ , Sarek."

"Clarify."

"It's not a matter of wishing because it's already happening. I'm pregnant."

Decades of training in logic had taught him to maintain his composure even in the face of complete shock, but he was not certain he was successful on this particular occasion. After about five seconds of silence passed between them, Amanda finally burst into a fit of sobs. This time he stood and reached for her hand, gently stroking her index finger with his two forefingers as he struggled to process the information.

While there was considerable scientific evidence to show that male fertility was greatly increased during pon farr, the idea that Amanda would conceive his child as a result of their coupling had never even entered his mind. She was _human_. Humans and Vulcans both had twenty-three chromosome pairs with many overlapping regions, but he had never anticipated that they were similar enough to result in a viable, natural conception, if the child in her belly even _was_ viable.

"What has the healer said?"

"I'm being referred to some doctor who specializes in hybrid pregnancies. I have an appointment next Tuesday."

"I see."

"Are you angry?"

"Anger is illogical."

That only made her cry harder. "I'm so sorry, Sarek."

"There is no need to apologize to me. I regret that I am the source of your distress."

"What are we going to do?"

"If the child is viable and you consent to continue with the pregnancy, then it appears no matter what we do, we are going to become parents."

"Is it what you want?"

"What I want is irrelevant," he replied. "What do you want?"

Amanda grabbed his hand and set it on her face. After a moment's pause, he slipped it into position along her jaw and felt his mind melt into hers. For the first time in weeks, he felt content. Soon their lips were gently pressed together and Amanda's fingers were weaving between the fingers of his free hand.

Building a life together would be difficult, but as far as Sarek was concerned, any life he forged with Amanda would be more than sufficient. Now if only he could convince her to accept his proposal.


	22. Sarek's Surprise

**Sarek's Surprise  
** **Stardate 2236.18**

**Tagan sector, _VDS T'Lira_**

"Do you require anything else from me this evening, ambassador?"

Sarek didn't immediately respond because his present focus was consumed by the woman staring out of the portal into the black void of space. When he felt Sevek's eyes on him, he turned to his aide and replied, "No."

He offered a deferential nod. "Very well. I will have the drafts of the statements you requested tomorrow morning."

"There is no need for such expediency," he insisted. He lowered his voice to add, "Beginning tomorrow, I will be unavailable for the next three days, as you know."

"I had thought you would like to review them in the morning," Sevek explained.

"There is time enough to revise them prior to returning to Vulcan."

He bowed his head and departed the family quarters without another word, leaving Sarek to return to admiring the sight of his wife curled up in the nook in the corner, her feet tucked underneath her and a book sprawled open on her lap. He often wondered what Amanda found so appealing about fiction. She'd made numerous attempts over the past seven years to explain that made-up stories allowed her to escape reality for a short time or ponder deeper truths, but in the end, they had both given up trying to understand their differences of opinion on literature. They were very different people in many aspects, but he could not deny his life was better because she was in it.

"Checkmate," Michael announced. A chess piece struck the board of the three-dimensional chess set with a decisive _clink_.

"Again," Spock replied.

"I'm tired of playing," Michael sighed. "I want to go finish my book."

"I want to play again," Spock insisted, his tone noticeably flat.

Michael rolled her eyes. "Why? So you can lose again?"

Anger flickered in his son's eyes and quickly disappeared. "Because I want to try another strategy."

Sarek knew his son well enough to know the neutral tenor of his voice indicated that Spock was irritated, but he was maintaining his composure. He was very proud of his son.

He was also proud of his ward. Michael had bested Spock at three-dimensional chess five times already that evening. To be fair, he was four years her junior and not yet seven years old but even despite her advantage, Michael excelled at games of strategy. She was proving to be extremely intelligent, even if she did struggle to rein in her emotions, and it was his hope that under his tutelage, she would become the first human admitted to the Vulcan Science Academy.

Michael sighed and began rearranging the pieces on the board to begin a new game, telling Spock, "One more. Then I'm done."

It occurred to Sarek that he'd become distracted and was annoyed when it took him several moments to recall what he'd been thinking prior to the three-dimensional chess interruption. _Amanda_. Naturally.

His eyes wandered back to the woman in the corner and when they came to rest on her, he was struck by a sudden burst of overwhelming affection. He loved her so dearly and yet he had never explicitly told her so. _Why_?

Sarek loved his wife. It was hardly illogical to love one's mate. She had given him a son. She had readily accepted Michael. Above all, she had agreed to share her life with him, even though it had come at great cost to her.

She slowly turned toward him, closed the book in her lap, and cocked her head in a way that suggested he was welcome to approach her. A soft smile grew on her lips as he drew near and when he was half a step away, she raised her hand, inviting him to stroke her forefingers. He accepted her gesture with a shaking hand, but if she noticed, she said nothing.

"Are you all finished with work for the evening?"

"I am."

Her gaze shifted to the children. "We should spend more time together. As a family."

Sarek turned to look at Spock and Michael a second time. Michael moved her bishop to the second level, which was quickly captured by Spock's knight from above. He studied the board for nearly a minute, unable to discern his ward's strategy.

In a low voice, Sarek said, "I believe she is allowing him to win."

"If so, it's very sweet of her."

"It is illogical to play without intent to win."

"And it's logical for her to be ruthless and dominate Spock in every single game they play?"

"It helps him improve."

"Only to a point. To constantly lose will only kill his confidence and then he'll never want to play again. By throwing him a bone every once in a while, Michael is making sure her brother will still want to play tomorrow. And _that_ is how Spock will get better."

He wasn't precisely sure what Amanda meant by "throwing him a bone," but it had been years since he'd questioned any of his wife's endless euphemisms. He also ignored her mention of Spock being Michael's brother. Sarek had always found it odd that Amanda insisted on referring to their ward as their "daughter" or as Spock's "sister" when she was neither of those things.

They all cared for Michael and made a sincere effort to incorporate her into the home and treat her as a member of the household, but she was not a blood relation. Precision in his choice of words was never intended to be unkind: it was simply the truth. Yet the one time he had mentioned this distinction to Amanda, her voice had gone soft and steely and she informed him in no uncertain terms that Michael _was_ their daughter and that was that. Humans were so strange.

Rather than enter into a debate about the optimal way to improve a child's strategic abilities, Sarek decided to change the topic of conversation. "Did you enjoy our visit to Tagus III?"

Her lips curved into a smile but her eyes remained neutral, indicating that her response would lack a degree of sincerity. "It was fine."

Being fluent in Standard, he knew that _fine_ had many variable definitions and uses. It could be a noun when referring to a monetary sum paid in response to an offense, a verb, which was the act of imposing the aforementioned noun, or an adjective, suggesting a thing was free from impurities, very fine in texture, precise, lovely, or adequate.

Seven years of marriage to a human female had taught him that "fine" also had a non-standard definition which meant, " _a thing which was hated but endured on behalf of another_."

"Did you not find any of the events on the itinerary stimulating?"

"I don't know that _stimulating_ is the word I would use. It was certainly very _educational_. The children were happy enough to tour the archeological dig sites and the museums. I wish we could have spent more time with you."

"The purpose of our visit to the Tagan system was not for recreation," he reminded her.

"Yes, I know. It was about-" she paused and murmured a little laugh. "Actually, I can hardly remember."

Sarek pursed his lips, nodded, and returned to stroking his wife's fingers. "I was the keynote speaker at the seventy-eighth annual conference of the Federation Scientific Consortium."

She shot him a wan smile. "Oh, that's right."

Silence fell between them. He had so much to discuss with her, but he was unsure how to broach the subject. The tremors in his hands returned and he dropped them to his sides in an effort to evade her noticing.

"Michael's birthday is next month."

Sarek gave a small nod. Most humans celebrated the anniversaries of their birth with gifts, parties, and cakes whereas Vulcans merely marked the day in an administrative capacity. What logic was there in congratulating a person for surviving another full orbit around one's local star?

"Anyway, you know how she loves to read and there's going to be a book exchange on Eridani D."

"And you wish to take her?"

"I get that birthdays are a very human thing to celebrate," she added, her voice growing stiff and defensive. "I suppose celebrating in general is a very human thing, but Michael _is_ human."

"I have never claimed she wasn't."

"I know."

Sarek stole a glance at his wife, noting she was staring quite intently at the children. He recalled how last year Spock had come home from school the day after his birthday and announced angrily that he didn't want to celebrate the "childish Earth tradition" anymore. It was easy enough to deduce the other children had mocked him for observing such a human holiday.

"Perhaps we could all take a day trip to Eridani D next month," Sarek continued. "In honor of Michael's birthday."

"Really?" she whispered, craning her neck up to look at him.

"Yes."

"I love you, Sarek." Her face softened and she looked at him expectantly.

He faltered. He should tell her he loved her also. It was the truth. And yet, the words that finally rolled from his tongue were, "I will make the arrangements when we return to Vulcan."

Amanda hesitated, opening and closing her mouth several times. She finally issued a little sigh and added, "It will be nice to get back to Vulcan. It seems like we've been gone for much more than six days. Do you know how long until we enter orbit?"

"Were we on a direct course for Vulcan, we would arrive in thirty-eight hours, however, there will be a small diversion."

Her jaw tightened and though she tried to conceal it with a smile, his soul was intertwined tightly enough with hers to know she was frustrated.

"The children were only given permission to miss twelve days of school-"

"I am aware," he interrupted, keen to assuage her annoyance.

"I know these diplomatic missions can come up last minute, but this was supposed to be a quick trip to Tagus III," she countered. "I don't want Spock and Michael falling behind-"

"They have already completed the tasks assigned to them by their instructors and T'Sena is prepared to tutor them for an additional four days."

A minor crack formed in her irritation. Amanda folded her hands over the book in her lap and asked, "Only four days?"

"Yes."

"And then we go home?"

"Yes."

She exhaled slowly and asked, "So where are we going?"

"Aegena."

A blank expression fell over her face. "Where is that?"

"The Argelian sector."

Her white teeth peeked through the part in her lips as a genuine smile began to take shape on her face. "I first met you in the Argelian sector."

"Yes, I recall."

"I know it's illogical to be sentimental, but if we're already adding four days to our trip to visit this Aegena place, would it be possible to stop by Arg-117P? Just for an hour? See the sights? Pet some rikki tikkis?"

Sarek hesitated before answering. "I do not think that will be possible."

"Why not?" Her face began to fall again, heralding the return of her frustration, as well as enormous disappointment. "Is it not on the way?"

"It is not that it is impractical to visit Arg-117P," he replied slowly. "It is merely that it is not on the schedule."

"I follow you wherever you ask me to go," she replied, brandishing a sad frown. "Why won't you just humor me this one time?"

He could not contrive a valid answer to her question other than the truth, which he did not intend to reveal at this time, so instead he raised his hand to resume their finger embrace. She left her hands propped defiantly on her book. There was no possibility that Amanda could remain oblivious to the visible shaking in his hands.

"What are we doing on Aegena that's so important?" she sighed, finally reaching up to clasp his hands between her palms.

"I do not intend to tell you."

Amanda's face contorted into a bright display of surprise and a tiny amount of anger. He hadn't seen such an expression fly across her features in a number of years. Rather than allow her illogical temper to get the better of her and permit her to say something she would regret, he added, "It is intended to be a surprise."

"A _surprise_?"

"Yes."

Her mood shifted and she laughed, boldly and brightly. "Aren't surprises the very _definition_ of illogical?"

"Not necessarily."

"At least just tell me whether we're not going to spend the next four days taking guided tours through local ruins or sitting in the back row at stuffy scientific conferences."

"It is a surprise."

"You're going to have to explain better than that."

"And you must be patient."

"You make it hard sometimes."

"I know."

She burst into another fit of giggles, which prompted Spock to call from the other end of the room, "Mother?"

Amanda struggled to catch her breath and compose herself. With a hand clutched to her chest she turned to their son and said, "Yes, Spock?"

"It is illogical to laugh."

Something in his comment had the effect of making her sad. Her laughter waned and a tight-lipped smile took its place. "You know what else is illogical?"

"Many things," Spock replied in earnest.

Amanda's smile broadened. "It's illogical not to clean your teeth and get ready for bed when it's this late."

"We were done anyway," Michael replied, moving Spock's knight to the top level to pin her own queen into the corner. "Check mate. You win."

"That settles it then," Amanda grinned, rising to her feet. "Pajamas, teeth, and bed. Now."

Spock and Michael vacated the main room without complaint and Amanda wandered into the back bedroom. Sarek followed at a cautious distance and stopped in the doorway, pausing to observe Amanda as she began the nightly ritual of removing her jewelry and makeup. She made eye contact with him through the reflection in mirror.

"Are you coming to bed?"

"I thought I might remain awake and meditate for a while."

"You don't seem to be sleeping much these days."

"I have been quite occupied with my diplomatic duties."

"And I noticed your hands have been a bit unsteady."

Sarek bowed his head and entered the room. "It is likely an effect of sleep deprivation."

Amanda's eyes darted back in his direction, then narrowed. Many conflicting emotions swept over her features, but eventually she murmured, "Don't stay up too late."

She retired to bed and Sarek made his way to the side room to begin a prolonged period of intensive meditation. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. His mind writhed, desperate to reclaim any sense of order and discipline, but as the hours dragged on it proved to be entirely fruitless. His hands shook and his thoughts burned. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Amanda tossed back the covers and yawned loudly, stretching her arms toward the ceiling. She didn't need to turn her head on the pillow to know her husband hadn't come to bed the night before. He'd been avoiding sleep for the better part of a week now.

She threw her legs over the side of the bed, donned a light robe, and strolled into the main room of their family quarters aboard the diplomatic vessel. Spock and Michael sat across from each other at the round table, spoons in hand and bowls of plomeek soup resting on the table before them. Sarek sat between the children reading from a PADD.

"Good morning, mother," Spock said, carefully enunciating the words.

"Good morning to you, my sweet boy," Amanda replied, petting his straight, shiny hair as she took a seat next to him. He frowned, set his spoon down, and began the arduous process of smoothing out his barely ruffled coif.

Before he could complain about her constantly mussing his hair, she turned to look at her daughter and asked, "How did you sleep, Michael?"

"Quite well," Michael replied, dipping her spoon into her soup.

"And what about you, dear husband?" Amanda asked, doing her best to keep her tone mild and as unaccusatory as possible.

She already knew the answer, of course. He hadn't slept at all. The full bowl of soup in front of him suggested he wasn't eating either. His hands had begun visibly shaking several days ago and he'd been uncharacteristically irritable and absent-minded. Then there was the son sitting to his right who was exactly six years and two months old as of four days ago. All signs pointed to one obvious conclusion.

She could still remember their awkward conversation in the escape pod all those years ago with stunning accuracy. " _For Vulcan males who follow logic, they are afflicted once approximately every seven years with pon farr_."

She knew it wasn't a topic her husband liked to discuss. He had literally never uttered the words _pon farr_ since their stay on Arg-117P. They were married now and had shared so much together so the secrecy and shame surrounding this very Vulcan condition seemed ridiculous now. Pon farr had given Amanda everything she currently had, the husband sitting across from her, the precious boy sitting to her left, and in a roundabout way, the delightful daughter to her right. How could pon farr be anything to be ashamed of?

"You should eat quickly, mother," Spock announced, lifting his spoon to his mouth.

"Why is that?"

"Father says we will arrive at Aegena in forty-three minutes."

"Is that so?" Amanda smiled, thinking of the surprise Sarek had mentioned the night before.

"Yes, and father says we're to go directly from the shuttle to our accommodations, otherwise we'll be late for the tour."

"Tour?" Amanda repeated, her heart sinking as she stole a glance at her husband.

"Yes, Sarek has arranged for us to tour a marine conservation project," Michael explained, excitement brimming in her voice.

Amanda couldn't have been more disappointed if she'd tried. She should have known better than to get excited over Sarek's promise of a surprise. Sometimes it was hard being the only one in the family with such a drastically different idea of what it meant to have a good time. It wasn't that she had a narrow range of interests or lacked an open mind, but after the past few days, she would rather do anything than be shepherded around by tour guides educating her on everything from rock formations to warp engines or in today's case, ocean critters on some random planet.

It was part of Sarek's job, to play the appreciative diplomatic guest while planetary leaders and starship captains proudly showed off their domains. As his wife, it was Amanda's job to go along, but as far as she could tell, one starship was just like any other. These sorts of tours weren't _all_ bad of course and Amanda had to admit she had experienced some amazing things over the past few years that few would ever be so privileged to see, but so often she wished she could just take her family to the beach or visit an amusement park without all of them insisting that exposing their skin to a source of ultraviolet radiation was more illogical than recreational.

Still, she did what she always did and tucked away her disappointed face in favor of a smile and told her family she couldn't wait to see the conservancy. And in some ways, it was true. Today she _would_ get to spend time with her family, her _entire_ family, and that was a blessing of its own since it was often just her and the children while Sarek was off doing diplomatic work. Also, a marine conservation project sounded like it would be outdoors, and Amanda loved the ocean and the feel of a sun on her face and wind in her hair.

"Are you going to eat first meal, mother?" Spock asked.

"I guess I should go get dressed first if we'll be at Aegena so soon," Amanda replied. "I can grab a quick snack before we disembark."

"It would be wise to eat a hearty meal," Sarek insisted.

"I should be fine with a granola bar or a banana," Amanda shrugged, rising from the table and casting a downward glance at the untouched breakfast sitting in front of her husband. "But that plomeek soup isn't going to eat itself, you know."

That seemed to silence him. She wandered back into the bedroom and once the door was safely shut behind her, she uttered an exasperated sigh that came out more violently than she'd anticipated. They were taking a four-day detour on their way home to tour a marine conservancy? On a planet she'd never heard of? While her husband was on the verge of a pon farr-induced mental breakdown?

She took her time in the sonic shower, slowly massaging the tension out of her neck as she tried mightily to conjure up some enthusiasm about the upcoming tour. She would need a lot more than she currently had to get through the day.

Wardrobe deliberations took nearly twenty minutes. The days of jeans and t-shirts were a distant memory, having been replaced with more traditional Vulcan dresses and robes for most public appearances. In the beginning she had felt like a little girl playing princess dress up under all those layers of luxurious fabric, like she was portraying a character in a Brontënovel.

She stepped into a flowing, light blue dress and grinned, recalling a conversation from a long time ago about the "objectively ordinary" Jane Eyre and how she wasn't a real person. She'd spent her entire marriage trying to convince her husband that fiction wasn't a complete waste of time. Though he refused to be converted, he was sweet enough to humor her by sitting with her about once a week while she watched a holomovie. Upon further reflection, she realized they were overdue for their regular dose of pretend and decided she would insist on watching a holomovie with him that evening once the children went to bed, if their lodgings on Aegena had such amenities.

She was shoving pins into the elegant bun at the nape of her neck when she felt a shift in the ship, suggesting they had dropped out of warp. It would take the captain no more than five minutes to get the ship situated properly in orbit, so she rushed to finish her hair and get a nice pair of earrings in.

She studied the shape of herself in the mirror on the back of the door, wondering if it would have been wiser to opt for something with longer sleeves. What was the weather on Aegena like? She deliberated adding a set of gold bangles to her bare wrists but decided they would detract from the sky-colored gown with the opulent purple trim and besides, her vokaya necklace and elaborate earrings were making enough of a statement.

"We are ready to disembark." Sarek's voice was flat.

Amanda whipped around and asked, "Is this appropriate attire for where we're going?"

A muscle in his cheek twitched and it took him longer than it ought to have to reply, "It is exactly correct for touring a marine conservancy."

"I should have asked about the weather," she sighed, grabbing a light shawl as she followed him out of the room.

"The forecast indicates the weather will be fair."

"Sarek," she said, reaching for his arm.

He slowed his pace and turned to look her in the eye. "Yes?"

"I was just thinking it had been a couple of weeks since we'd last watched a holomovie together. I know your schedule has been very busy but I was thinking that tonight-"

He resumed his journey toward the shuttle. "I do not believe it will be possible to watch one of your fictional holographic programs this evening."

"Why?" she called after him, lengthening her stride to catch up.

"I anticipate we will be quite occupied," he explained as he stepped into the shuttle.

She was about to bark, " _With what_?" but caught herself when she realized Spock and Michael were already seated and watching them.

Thirty minutes later the family of four was strolling along an open boulevard with tall resorts on both sides and people of all races moving in an excited yet lethargic manner, like they had everywhere to be and nowhere to be at the same time. These people were on vacation, no doubt about it. Many of them carried drinks and souvenirs and as they walked on a little further, she noticed a few passersby clutched flotation rafts and oversized bags stuffed with towels. They wore sandals and brightly colored garb, making her feel ridiculously overdressed. Amanda sniffed the air and upon detecting a salty tinge, her heart soared. There was a _beach_.

She should have guessed it from the fact that they were scheduled to visit a marine conservancy, but the idea that they were going to take a detour to a vacation planet with a proper beach resort and not go swimming or sunbathing was too much to bear.

"Amanda?" Sarek called behind her.

She twisted around and realized Sarek and the children had stopped in front of a grand hotel. She had been following the crowd in a dreamy daze, desperate to join them in their day of fun in the sun. Instead she turned and joined her family by the entrance of a towering building with commanding, dark gray pillars and flowers of a thousand different colors growing from vines growing up the walls. It reminded her a lot of the resort she'd stayed at on Argelius II several years ago, only much more upscale.

Sevek appeared from behind Sarek and announced, "I have secured your lodgings, ambassador. If you will follow me."

Sevek directed them to a luxury suite at the end of the hall on the top floor with a glass wall and a view of an azure ocean tucked behind several smaller buildings. He and Sarek remained in the hallway for a private conversation but Amanda barely noticed their absence. After years of living on a desert world, she was entranced by the sight of so much blue streaming in from the windows. She would be content to spend the rest of the morning taking in the scene from the glass wall in the main room. The door buzzed and Michael answered it.

"I have come to collect you," a woman's voice announced.

T'Sena, the children's tutor, stood in the doorway. Amanda choked down passionate annoyance at being permitted to soak in this beautiful view, only to be ripped away from it less than a minute later. It wasn't like she wasn't used to it though. Sarek kept a demandingly tight schedule, even for a Vulcan. There were no idle moments in his daily working routine, so why had she allowed herself to be hopeful to catch her breath and relax for five minutes?

She took a slow breath, determined not to be irritated with T'Sena, who was only doing her job. "I'll get my bag."

T'Sena cocked her head. "Perhaps I am mistaken, but you and the ambassador are not scheduled to attend today's visit to the marine conservancy."

"What do you mean?" Amanda asked. "You just said you were here to collect us."

"I was referring to the children," T'Sena clarified. "The ambassador has given me an itinerary for occupying Michael and Spock for the duration of our visit here on Aegena."

"What am I supposed to do?" Amanda asked, finding it very strange that Sarek would put someone else in charge of watching her children when she was perfectly capable.

"I believe the ambassador has devised an alternate schedule of events for you."

Sarek entered the room before Amanda could think of an appropriate response to this shocking revelation. He glanced from Amanda to T'Sena and the children and said, "You have the updated itinerary from Sevek?"

"I do. I will ensure they tend to their education this evening."

"Thank you," Sarek replied. "I believe you should depart now, if you are to arrive at the dock at the appointed time."

"We're not going with them?" Amanda interrupted.

"No, T'Sena and Sevek will supervise the children for the next three days," Sarek said.

"Three _days_?" cried Amanda. It wasn't as though she'd never spent time away from them: last year they had spent two full weeks on Earth apart from Spock and Michael, but she'd had considerable notice and time to mentally prepare for that kind of separation.

"It is not so very long and they are in the care of two capable individuals who I trust very much," Sarek explained.

Amanda's mouth fell open. "It's not that I don't trust T'Sena, I just- three days is such a long time."

"You have spent longer periods away from them," he reminded her.

"Yes, I know, but usually I have a few weeks to get used to the idea."

"They are certainly old enough to cope without you for three days," Sarek said, a tone of finality in his voice. "And if we do not permit them to leave now, they will miss the barge that will carry them to the marine conservancy."

Amanda scowled at her husband and knelt in front of the children, kissing each on the cheek and wrapping them into a suffocating three-way hug. Michael was probably too old for this routine, but Amanda didn't care. The girl was starving for human contact and Amanda was starving to give it to her.

"You will be good and listen to T'Sena?" Amanda asked. Why did she bother? What else was she supposed to expect from Spock and Michael? They would listen to their tutor because they liked and respected her.

"Yes, mother," Spock replied.

"Yes, Amanda," Michael added.

Their indifference to this unexpected separation was beginning to upset her—perhaps she'd been more emotional than usual lately—but rather than let her eyes start watering, she forced a smile and stood up.

"I hope you both have a good time," she sighed. "And no staying up late playing chess."

Both of the children mumbled promises to go to bed at the appointed time. "And Spock, no sweets until you've had your dinner!"

"I know, mother," he called, casting a glance over his shoulder.

"Amanda," Sarek interjected, a distinct and uncharacteristically weary tone in his voice. "Let them go. They know what is expected of them."

When the door shut behind them, she crossed her arms and asked, "Now what?"

Then she felt very silly. The _surprise_. They were in a gorgeous room on a resort planet and he was on the verge of pon farr. Sarek often did all kinds of romantic little things—most of them not on purpose—but this was truly the sweetest and most dreamy thing he'd ever accomplished. Her skin began to flush hot and an involuntary smile broke onto her face.

"There is a shuttle waiting to collect us," he declared, slaughtering the romantic moment with an entreaty to hurry up and move along to the next regularly scheduled event.

"A shuttle?"

"It's been seven years and you still so often respond to my statements with incredulity."

"It's been seven years and you still remind me," Amanda responded, her mind still reeling from the sudden shift in her expectations.

They boarded a shuttle twenty minutes later after walking back through the alluring promenade of vacation goers. The gentle thrum of island music and the smell of the beach and food stands would have driven her mad if she weren't in such a hurry. He walked at such a brisk pace that she nearly had to jog to keep up and by the time they reached the shuttle, she was breathing hard from the exertion.

Her stomach growled as she took her usual seat behind the pilot, a young Vulcan man named Tavek. Sarek stopped in front of her, produced a banana and a granola bar from one of the deep pockets of his robes, and handed them to her. "I believe this was what you requested for first meal."

It was amazing how one little act of kindness and consideration could melt a disconsolate mood. "You remembered," she smiled. "Thank you."

She expected him to take the seat next to her, but he continued past her to the private cabin in the back. "Where are you going?"

"To the aft of the shuttle for a moment of privacy."

"Why?"

"Because I require it."

The irritation threatened to return, despite the goodwill fruit in her hands. "Where are _we_ going?"

He turned in the doorway and replied, "It is a surprise."

* * *

Sarek's hands shook violently as he fastened the buttons of his shirt. He was not certain he had the mental faculties to keep the charade going much longer. It was all very illogical, but pon farr was an illogical circumstance.

He could sense Amanda's growing annoyance and frustration and hoped it would be resolved soon. He often wondered if his growing inability to keep his emotions in check was affecting her as well or if he was just noticing her moodiness more because of his current state. For Vulcan mates, it was common for the partner to become agitated alongside the pon farr-afflicted mate as a result of the telepathic bond between them. This was their first pon farr together as bonded mates. Amanda was obviously not Vulcan, but their relationship was so unorthodox that there was very little scientific literature on how Vulcan pon farr cycles would affect a human spouse.

He bent down, laced up his boots, and took a series of slow, careful breaths. Would she be pleased by the surprise he had in store for her or would she only grow more frustrated? Not for the first time, Sarek began to wonder if he had made a wise decision. He glanced out the portal. They were flying at low altitude and low speed over dense woodlands and based on his estimates, would arrive at their destination in approximately ten minutes.

He grabbed the other set of clothes and returned to the main cabin to find Amanda spinning the banana peel between her thumb and forefinger, the flaps twirling outward like a dancer's skirt. She shot him a lazy glance but paused, her eyes growing wide.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, offering the other set of clothes out to her.

"What's this?"

"Clothing for you to change into," he explained. "You will require it for where we are going."

She stood and after sneaking a sidelong glance at Tavek, followed him into the aft cabin. She accepted the offering with confused trepidation. "I don't understand. If I needed more durable clothes, why not just tell me this morning rather than let me put on this dress?"

"It would have violated the surprise."

She snorted and clasped a hand over her mouth, nearly dropping the hiking boots. "So if we're not going to a marine conservancy, where are we really going?"

"It will remain a surprise for a while longer," he explained. "Though we will arrive at our destination soon so you may wish to hurry."

She shook her head in disbelief at the clothes. "It'll take me a minute just to get out of this dress. Will you help me?"

Sarek felt his skin flush at the thought of Amanda removing her clothes. She either didn't notice or didn't care about his excitement and turned her back to him and stretched her neck to reveal the buttons at the top of her dress. She began fumbling with an earring as Sarek approached. When his hands brushed against the tiny hairs trailing from the bun at the nape of her neck down her spine, she shivered, which only made him long for her more. His hands trembled as he pulled each light purple button from the eyelet, revealing more and more of her pink-toned flesh.

She shimmied and fidgeted and soon the dress began to slide down her body, exposing the top half of her form. The hunger burned more intensely and soon he realized Amanda had stopped moving. His quaking hands were just inches away from her hips, like a sorcerer trying to conjure a spell.

Amanda took a full step back and leaned into his body and the urge to caress her intensified. She twisted at the waist and turned her chin upward, clearly expecting to be kissed. If he kissed her now, he feared he would not be able to stop. Her mouth found his without warning, wet and warm and delightful. His hands found the sides of her neck and began to move upward, preparing to meld their minds together. It had been so long. _Too_ long.

Just before his fingertips could make contact with the correct points, the intercom dinged and Tavek's voice drifted through the speaker. "We have arrived at the coordinates you provided me with, ambassador."

He broke apart from her, suddenly aware that she was not yet dressed for their excursion. She quickly peeled the dress off and flung it over the top sleeping compartment and hurriedly shoved her legs into trousers and socks and boots. The end result was nearly identical to the woman he had first met seven years ago, rugged and confident, even if she was a little cleaner and her hair was more elegantly styled.

Amanda was about to return to the main cabin but he stopped her and gestured to the two rucksacks in the corner. "I believe you will require one of these."

She was supremely confused now but accepted one of the bags with obvious excitement. He helped her get it onto her shoulders and after ensuring she was not carrying too much weight, he donned his own rucksack and escorted her into the main cabin.

The port hatch was open, revealing tall grass and a thickly-wooded hillside in the distance. The look of utter shock on Amanda's face as she stumbled down the ramp reminded him of one of her holomovies, the one with the girl from the place called Kansas who had a dream about a fantastical land of talking lions and flying primates.

"As per your instructions, I will be at the specified location sixty-four kilometers away from here in 80.7 hours to collect you," Tavek said.

Sarek nodded, raised his hand in the ta'al, and followed his wife down the ramp. Amanda was already wandering toward the tree line as the shuttle began its ascent. The late morning sun peeked over the trees but spots of dew remained in the grass, which clung to the bottoms of his trousers as he walked.

"Aegena reminds me so much of Arg-117P!" Amanda exclaimed, stretching out her arms and turning a full circle.

"That's because it is," Sarek explained, mildly pleased that she seemed excited. "Five years ago, the Argelians re-designated Arg-117P as Aegena, likely because it has more promotional potential for attracting visitors."

Surprise. Joy. Affection. Sarek relished in experiencing these feelings within her through their bond.

"Last night you said it wouldn't be possible to visit Arg-117P."

"That was technically correct—Arg-117P no longer exists. It is now called Aegena."

"You're splitting hairs."

"You're deploying an illogical euphemism to make your point."

"I wish I were sharp enough right now to reply with some kind of witty retort, but I'm too excited," she exclaimed, gripping the straps of the rucksack and bouncing on her toes. "How long do we get to stay for?"

"Three days."

"Three Arg-117P days or three standard days?"

"Three local days, which is the equivalent of 80.73 standard hours."

"We're going camping, just you and me, for three whole days?"

Doubt crept into the back of his mind. He sensed profound disbelief coming from Amanda and wondered if his surprise had failed. He wasn't skilled at such illogical forms of intrigue.

"You have often expressed a fondness for the outdoors," he explained. "I know you have a desire to visit the beach and I am told Aegena has many lovely beaches on the southern part of this continent-"

"No," she said, raising a finger. "I _do_ want to take you to the beach one day and if you had asked me this morning, I would have told you there was nothing else I'd rather spend vacation doing. Then you presented me with this. _This_ , Sarek, is perfect."

He gave a small nod and ducked his shoulder out from one of the bag's straps to procure a tricorder. She joined him and looked down at the screen.

"Where should we set up camp?" she asked, looking around. "Here seems like a pretty good spot and looks a lot like where our pod was situated."

"Not here," he replied as he adjusted the settings on the device and pointed toward a sloping hill among the trees. "First let us walk 1.9 kilometers in that direction."

She shrugged. "Lead the way."

They set off, walking side-by-side. He enjoyed the brisk chill in the air but every time he closed his eyes, he thought of her naked to the waist in the rear cabin of the shuttle.

"How long has it been since we've been here?" Amanda asked. "Like how much time has passed for the planet?"

"I am not entirely certain," he admitted. "All of my estimates from seven years ago were very crude. However, based on the slow self-correction of the gravitational well, approximately 18,000 years have elapsed for this planet, relative to us."

"So probably not quite long enough to evolution to make any drastic changes," she said, running her hands over the bark of a very fortunate tree. "Do you suppose the rikki tikkis are still here?"

"It is difficult to determine," he replied. "There may have been some extinctions even if little appears to have changed."

They walked along, occasionally challenged by the steep terrain. Sarek was enjoying the melodic sound of his wife's voice as she gushed her appreciation for planning this unexpected vacation and reminisced about her memories of this place. When Sarek checked the tricorder and stopped, she had walked on for nearly ten meters before she realized he wasn't following behind.

"Is everything ok?"

"Yes. I am currently standing in the location where we first met."

The expression that fell across her face was one he had only ever seen a handful of times. The first was on their wedding day, the second was the first time she had held Spock in her arms, and the third was when he'd insisted they adopt Michael.

"Right here?" she asked, pointing to the ground and backtracking to his position.

"Approximately."

"I had to cut down a sapling to make a lever," she laughed.

"I recall. The sap stained your hands red for several days."

She laughed. He'd always secretly treasured the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed.

"Maybe we could camp here for the night," she said, glancing around.

Sarek had planned to spend the first day journeying back to the site of the place where they had first consummated their union, but his desire to adhere to his plan and his desire to be with his wife were dueling most savagely.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No," he replied, his voice strangely weak.

She reached for his hand and traced her fingers over the bones in his wrist, sending pulses of pleasure racing through his body. How desperately he wanted to grab her cheeks and join their minds together. As if she were reading his mind, she lifted his hand to her face and offered him an expectant look. That was all it took.

Their rucksacks fell to the forest floor as their hands clawed and groped at one another. They both struggled against the clasp of their trousers and Amanda flipped around to press her buttocks into him as she moved. He fell forward and she dropped to a knee and very quickly their bodies became one. His left arm snaked around her chest to prop her upright, his hand rubbing along her breasts as it moved. She twisted, threw her head back, and kissed him hungrily and his right hand found her face to renew their mind meld. She was aglow with passion and it only spurred him forward.

Soon she was on all fours, her body moving in concert with his. Pon farr had reduced him to rutting around in the dirt like a feral animal but he didn't care. He needed her more than he ever had and she seemed to need him too. It wasn't long before he could no longer avoid the bliss of climax and shuddered against her with a sharp groan.

He slumped forward onto her back, breathing heavily and trying to focus his mind. It was clearer than it had been in weeks, but he would need to mate many more times before his condition would be resolved. Amanda slid forward on her elbows, caking mud onto her forearms. She rolled beneath him onto her back and he leaned forward to give her a ravenous kiss.

"I was wondering how this would go," she whispered when he finally broke apart from her.

"I- I have begun- it is the time of-"

"Pon farr," she finished, smiling up at him. "We've been married for nearly seven years you know. You can talk to me about these things."

"It is difficult."

"I know it is," she answered. She reached up to gently trace the backs of her fingers against his jaw. "I didn't want to bring it up though. I wanted to give you the space to come to me when you were ready but I was starting to worry you wouldn't. I was afraid it was going to be like last time."

"You are my wife," he reminded her. "And my pon farr is not nearly as advanced as the last time."

"I _am_ your wife, but I feel like there's so much you still keep hidden from me."

"I often think the same of you."

"I didn't think I could keep anything from you," she laughed. "You can read my feelings."

"You have become more adept at concealing them over the years."

"Really?" Her eyes shone, accentuating the amber tones around her iris.

"I know that in the beginning you were very unhappy."

The light faded from her eyes and they began to glisten with moisture. "It was so hard at first and I felt like a disappointment to you. It was a lot of change. I had a baby I hadn't planned with a man I barely knew who was from a culture I could barely understand. Then we moved to Vulcan where I didn't know anyone and no one wanted to associate with me."

"When I reflect back on the first two years of our marriage, I cannot recall a single day in which you did not weep."

"I didn't think you noticed." Her words were so quiet he wasn't certain he'd heard them correctly. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes and he wiped them away but inadvertently smeared mud on her face. He looked at his hands and realized they were filthy.

"I am sorry you have suffered," he said as he wiped his hands on his trousers.

She sat up and leaned against his chest. "I love you very much, but it's also been very hard figuring out how to be your wife."

"There were times I feared you would leave," he confessed. "I often found myself meditating over the worry that I had done you a great disservice by taking you for my mate. You never openly confirmed my suspicions but it was obvious you struggled to adapt to life with a Vulcan husband. Perhaps you still do."

"It must have been hard for you to live with an emotional, human wife," she sniffed.

"It was not easy, but I believe it has made me a better ambassador. Though I must admit, when you took to your bed shortly after Spock was born and I was recalled to serve as ambassador-at-large for the Vulcan High Council, there were many times I considered resigning my post so that we could return to Earth and you could regain some contentment."

Horror sprung onto her face and the tears flowed faster. "I was a first-time mom to a hybrid baby light years away from anyone I knew. You didn't seem very interested in Spock and even the pediatrician seemed to think he was some kind of mistake."

"Our son isn't a mistake," Sarek said, torn between wanting to meld with Amanda and not wanting to smear dirt on her face. "He is the result of a dire situation who became a bridge between our people."

"Have you ever been embarrassed of me or thought you made a mistake by marrying me?" she asked suddenly.

"No." It was the shortest possible response, but it was the truth.

They touched their fingers together and spent several minutes stroking one another's hands. His hands were steadier than they had been but there was still a noticeable shake. "Will you permit me to make a query?"

She let out a half-hearted laugh. "You're my husband. You don't have to ask if you can ask."

"Why did you remain with me if you were so unhappy?"

Pain brimmed in her eyes. "You're my husband and my son's father. I was lonely on Vulcan but if I had left, I would have just been lonely in a different way. It was very hard, but then Spock started to get a little older and I began to make a few acquaintances and I was able to travel with you more. We argued, we made compromises, we watched Spock take his first steps and say his first words together. We built a _life_. Then one day you brought Michael home and I sort of looked around and realized we were this _family_. Perhaps not a traditional family or a _normal_ family, but what is normal anyway? I've come to think of myself as a very lucky Earth woman to have found such a faithful partner."

"I see."

"You see?" she asked, lowering her voice to mimic his in a mocking tone.

He gave a small nod but said nothing.

"Please will you meld with me?"

"My hands are dirty."

"We both look like we've been wallowing in a pig pen," she laughed. "I don't think a little more dirt will hurt anything."

The instant his hands met her face and the warm swell that came from joining their minds together washed over them, Sarek found himself atop Amanda, tugging at her clothing as she gripped his lower waist between her thighs. The second time was more affectionate than frantic and lasted longer.

When they ended up on their backs breathing hard twenty minutes later, Sarek looked over and realized Amanda had a muddy handprint on her face where he had melded with her. A small smile formed on his lips before he could subdue it and the expression certainly didn't escape her notice.

She smiled back at him, threw a leg over his stomach, and sat astride him. "Sometimes I wish I could have this side of you all the time."

"I cannot abandon logic."

"No, because then you wouldn't be you," she replied, dabbing a bit of mud on the tip of his nose.

"I seem to recall there was a stream not far from here."

They pieced their clothing back together and trudged down the steep slope to find the gentle stream had become an enormous river. Sarek squatted down and began to draw the water up to his face, but when he looked behind him, he found Amanda wearing nothing but a smile.

"Wouldn't be the first time I'd been skinny-dipping here," she shrugged. "Maybe you should give it a try."

It was a shocking proposal, but not twenty minutes earlier he had been mating with his wife in an open forest. Pon farr was a time with suspended logic, so perhaps he could embrace rather than eschew the irrational. He stripped his shirt over his head, prompting Amanda to whistle at him for whatever reason. The water was surprisingly still but he remained wary of any unseen dangers. He had once beaten back a swarm of small, vicious mammals near a body of water much like this.

"Perhaps you should not venture out so far," Sarek called, wading in after her.

"I would have thought the pon farr would make you more reckless," she called, not bothering to look back at him.

He finally caught up to her when she was in waist deep water. It was cool without being cold and the bright light of the sun was intense. Spongy sand and decayed plant matter squished between his bare toes, a sensation he surprisingly enjoyed. When she started to cup water into her hands to wash the streaks of soil from her forearms, he fought the need to have her for a third time. They had three days—he would need to pace himself.

They took turns tenderly washing one another and when they were done, they carried their dirty clothes back to where they had dumped their rucksacks and dressed in fresh outfits. He packed the soiled clothes into his bag and prepared to lift it onto his shoulders, but Amanda gently touched his arm. "Can't we camp here for tonight?"

"I had planned to take you to the site of your escape pod," he explained. "It is where Tavek is scheduled to retrieve us in three days."

"It's only sixtyish kilometers," she shrugged. "We're still young. We could make that in two days without breaking a sweat."

"My pon farr is such that I will need to continue mating intermittently," he explained, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Even better." She delivered a light kiss on his lips. "We can stop for breaks. It'll be a lot more pleasant than the last time when we were freezing and starving to death and didn't think all that much of each other."

"I have always thought very highly of you," he insisted.

"Oh please. I annoyed the piss out of you when we first met."

"I thought you talked too much and had an unfortunate tendency to expose your more intimate secrets without provocation-"

"And you were a grim know-it-all."

"I do not know everything," Sarek countered. "I would argue that I do not know most things."

Amanda pulled him into a warm embrace which made him want to have her again, but instead she set to work erecting their tent. While she worked, Sarek removed a small axe from his bag and cut wood for a fire. They spent the rest of the daylight hours mating and resting and when it was time to consume end meal, he retrieved two pouches and a PADD from a side pocket of his bag.

"What's this?" she asked.

He offered her the rations while he set up the PADD.

She giggled charmingly. "White bean soup and chocolate cake?"

"The former was what you consumed the night we located the first escape pod from the _Bell_ ," he reminded her. "The latter was what you had desired to consume."

"I would have thought it illogical to be so sentimental," she murmured, sitting up and ripping off the tab on the pouch of soup to heat it. "But I love it."

He leaned the PADD up against the foot of her rucksack and propped himself up on his elbow next to her while she slurped down the steaming hot liquid. When the scene of an old English manor faded into view, she nearly choked on her meal. "Jane Eyre?"

"Yes, I believe you expressed interest in viewing a fictional program this evening."

"And you said it wouldn't be possible."

"No, I said it would not be possible to watch a fictional _holographic_ program this evening. This PADD is not formatted to produce holographic images, only two-dimensional ones."

"There you go splitting hairs again," she sighed, sipping down the rest of her soup. "And being so damn romantic I think I might die from loving you too much."

He sighed. She was so often given to hyperbole. When the last crumb of chocolate cake was licked from the inside of the packaging, Amanda crawled into Sarek's sleeping bag, shivering in the chill of the night air. His body was feverish from the pon farr and he was more than willing to keep her warm.

His hand slid along her belly, pausing to admire the slack skin that had once loosened to accommodate Spock's fetal development. Eventually his fingers found her thighs and he parted her legs, eager for another coupling.

When they merged into one, he found himself caught in the throes of overwhelming affection. He had known this wonderful woman for seven years and loved her almost as long. He would love her between now and eternity for everything she was and everything she would be. She was Amanda, the love of his life.


End file.
